


it's not the same anymore

by eggsntoast



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Inspired By The Holiday, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, learning how to love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-27 11:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 55,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsntoast/pseuds/eggsntoast
Summary: After a bad break up, Isak goes on vacation to get away from his life for the holidays.Here, in a small cottage in Bergen, after agreeing to swap-houses with a stranger online, he expects to find peace in the solitude; to be able to spend a minute alone and just relax. He doesn't have to think about anything other than himself -- and really, he didn't think this through.When he's about to give up and head home, a midnight appearance from a stranger leaves him breathless and questioning everything he's ever known about love.And suddenly, it's not the same anymore.(loosely inspired by 'the holiday')*this is a completed work, the epilogue will come soon!
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 73
Kudos: 184





	1. when a drunk angel appears at midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, and welcome to my fic!! i am huge fan of the movie 'the holiday' and the other day it started snowing, so i couldnt help myself from writing a christmas-y fic featuring two of my faves star-crossed lovers
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoy! kudos & comments much appreciated, you can find me on tumblr @peachyisak aannd... 
> 
> thats all!
> 
> \- will update every saturday! 
> 
> xo, kris

Isak grabs the nearest thing to him, the quickest possible thing he could get his hands on, and throws it, with every bit of intent of making a dent. 

Its a sneaker, and it flies through the air just as Adam ducks out of the way, falling to the floor behind him. Futile, but for a moment it felt good. Isak wants to throw something else, but the next best thing is a pillow. That won’t do. Isak wants to tear open his chest and throw his heart at him, maybe that would make his point more clear. 

“May I just say _again_, that I did not sleep with him!” Adam defends himself, and Isak doesn’t even know why he let the bastard sleep on his couch last night. He should’ve gotten the locks changed before he had a chance to get in. 

“Oh right, because your receptionist needs to be up at 2 am with you.” Isak huffs, crossing his arms. He’s positively fuming. “See, this is why I didn’t want you to sell your house. I knew this would happen.”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Adam rolls his eyes. Isak rolls his right back, his ears and cheeks hot from anger. “Isak, we’ve had problems for a year now, you don’t have to act like this is about David.” The way he says his name only makes Isak’s blood boil further. David, as if Isak needs to remember who picked up the phone last night, panting into the microphone and when Isak asked where Adam was, all he got was a ‘he’s busy'. 

“I’m well aware we’ve had problems. If I work too much, I never stop hearing about it.” Isak scowls, his tone punctuating his words. Each syllable feels like a knife sliding over his tongue. He hopes they’re hurting Adam, because even if for a second he feels the pain that Isak is currently feeling, then it’s worth it. 

“If you work too much?” Adam responds incredulously, and now his words are starting to feel like a stab, too. Isak remains stoic, stone-cold, hardened. He’s accustomed to it, and it’s not too hard to remain composed despite his heart feeling like it might explode. It’s rapid in his chest, clenching desperately for some kind of relief. Like a ticking bomb. Isak tries to take some steadied breaths, but that’s futile, too. “You’re in the studio all day, you sleep with your laptop more than you do with me! When’s the last time we had sex, Isak?”

“Nobody has time for sex.” Isak retorts with a huff. And it’s true, it’s not like he has the energy for it even if there was time, and it’s not like Adam is ever home anymore anyway. Isak swallows, a lump forming in his throat, an unfamiliar one that makes him even angrier. 

Adam sighs, and it looks for a moment like he’s calculating his next steps, his next words. Careful, Isak thinks, narrowing his eyes as Adam opens his mouth and Isak’s chest explodes, the bomb goes off. 

“That’s not _entirely_ true.” 

“That’s it!” Isak shouts, reaching for the other sneaker, and a pillow, throwing them both at Adam and watching as he moves away easily, a huff of a laugh escaping him, sounding as if he’s mocking Isak’s efforts. “Get out!” 

“Can I at least—“

“No, you need to go, now,” Isak says as he rushes towards him, pushing him out of the bedroom and down the hall. Adam doesn’t protest, letting Isak’s hands push him down the hall and he shakes his head as they make their way down the stairs. A few of Isak’s maids rush out of the room once they see them, clearly interested in the situation but wanting to give them the illusion of privacy. Isak knows they’re just hiding in the next room, listening. He hopes they enjoy the show, at least someone could find the humour in this. 

“You know what I think? I don’t think you ever really loved me.” Isak says as he opens the front door, gesturing for Adam to go. But he just stands there, like a buffoon with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. “I think you loved the idea of me, but not…me. Not really.” He tries to make it sound harsh, but instead, it only ends up sounding like he’s looking for pity points — and no, he’s not looking for pity points, he’s looking to get Adam the fuck off his property. 

“I can’t believe you’re criticizing the way I loved you…I did the best job I could.” He sighs, and then, almost like he’s deliberately trying to clip away any remaining bits of Isak’s heart there is left, he says, “Is _anyone_ going to be good enough for that job?” He sounds broken and angry, much like how Isak is, but he won’t let Adam know that. He won’t show Adam that it hurts. He clenches his jaw instead, trying to see what he might look like from an outside perspective. He hopes he looks composed, not like if Adam were to push at one more thing, he might just fall apart. 

Isak grabs Adam’s coat and keys and throws them out the door, pointing to them where they landed on the driveway. 

“I’ll send you your things.” 

“You know you do this right?” Adam shuffles through the door and collects his things, tears brimming his eyes. But he doesn’t look remorseful, if anything, he looks relieved. Isak feels it too, he knows he does, but right now he’s too angry, and the more Adam spews at him, words meant to inflict pain in the heat of the moment, the more Isak is inclined to listen. “You screw up every relationship. It’s what you do.” He practically sneers the words, and Isak slams the door so fast it almost shakes the walls. 

Slamming the door and turning the lock is almost better than throwing the sneakers at him. Isak balls his fists, bares his teeth, shaking visibly with anger, standing to stare at the door like it might explode, too. He lets out an agonizing sound, and for a moment, that feels almost as good as slamming the door. 

He rushes up the stairs and into their bedroom, his bedroom, and quickly runs around the room, throwing all of Adam’s things on the bed into a collective, shitty pile. He needs to pick up every inch of him and throw it out the window, or better yet, in the trash. There's a small part of him that just wants to torch the lot of it, send Adam a picture with Isak giving him the middle finger. 

He can still hear Adam talking out on the driveway, and Isak he goes over to his balcony doors, swinging them open and staring angrily down at the man he used to love. Used to, and that’s the problem. Adam looks up at him, a dangerous smile on his face, the one that Isak fell for. Isak wants to say something, anything to get that dumb smirk off his face. 

“You always resist it, in your own way. It’s hard to see how you do it, cause nobody is as smart as you, but it always surfaces, and this is what happens.” He points to Isak, gesturing between them as if they are something to write home about. 

“What happens?” Isak responds, surprising himself with how it just bubbled out of him like he couldn’t resist. And he can’t, now this is easily becoming destructive. He wants to hear everything Adam has to say about him, he wants to memorize it. He wants to make sure he never feels this way again. He wants to make sure he doesn’t give anyone the power to. 

“Things end just like how you knew they would, almost as if you orchestrate it in your own way. I don’t know if you do it consciously or not but fuck, Isak. You never let anyone in, not completely.” He huffs, “There's nobody like you. But you…you aren’t what I need.”

“Oh, so David is?” Isak retorts. 

“Isak!”

“What, Adam?! I would never cheat on you.”

“And I wouldn’t cheat on you! Look at you, you must be the only person to break off an engagement and not even shed a fucking tear.” 

And okay, that stings, and it was uncalled for. Isak’s nails dig into his palm from how hard his hands are balled into fists, and he unravels them slowly, trying to calm himself, trying to find his composure, put his shield back up. 

“Why does it bug you so much that I can’t cry?” He asks, his voice still cold and distant. He prides himself for this talent he’s got, he’s good at closing himself off, and right now he needs to more than ever. “Look, Adam. It’s over between us, for real this time. So why can’t you just be honest with me?”

Another beat passes, and something akin to shame overflows through Adam’s features, and he looks solemn for a moment. One of the gardeners is listening, and Isak shoots him a pensive look. 

“He’s in love with me.” Adam breaks, and Isak groans, the gardener shakes his head. “I’ve slept with him. I’ve been sleeping with him. Are you happy?”

Isak disappears from the balcony, and before he can stop himself he’s running back to the front door, unlocking it, and forcing it open with a heaving swing. Who ordered such a heavy wooden door? He quickly steps out onto the porch to look at Adam, who was still looking up at the balcony before Isak appeared in front of him. 

Isak shuffles, fuming, wanting to get closer but he’s afraid he might end up doing something stupid, like one of them mistaking this tension for lust and pulling one another back inside to finish the job, and he can’t add that onto this list of complications, not right now, not when he just admitted to the one thing Isak can’t forgive. 

“Did you just ask me if I was _happy_?”

“I can’t tell with you, Isak. I never can and it used to drive me crazy about you. But I can’t do it anymore, I’m worn thin.” Isak takes a good, long look at him, and he can see the wear their lives have both had on each other. He can see the light dimming behind his eyes, the weariness etched onto his features. It doesn’t make him any more forgiving, though. 

“Do you know what cheating is, Adam? It’s a coward's way of breaking up with someone.” Adam deflates in front of him, and Isak fuels his fires from it. “It’s a bad way to end things because this is how I’ll always think of you. Not the guy who was the first person to help me make a home here,” His voice breaks, but he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t even feel his eyes get wet. If anything they’re almost stinging from how dry they are. Adam sniffs, biting his lip, tears brimming, and its Isak’s only inclination that this he’s hurting too. He’s not proud of it, but he fuels from that, too, from the pain Adam is so openly admitting to. “Not the guy I dreamed of spending my life with. No, now you’ll forever be tainted by this. In the world of love, this is unacceptable.”

“You’re one to talk. You haven’t loved me for a long time, you’ve just been keeping me around because I’m convenient, because I already know you so well. Fuck, Isak. Look at what that brought us to.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he rubs at them. “No matter what you think, and I know you have a high opinion of yourself, this isn’t all on me.” 

Isak can’t listen anymore. He instead turns on his heel and slams the door again, unable to even fathom the thought of looking at him directly anymore. 

Just then, Jonas strolls in, headphones on and carrying a laptop. He stops when he takes in Isak, who is still visibly shaking. Isak lets out a long, long sigh, and Jonas waits for him to finish. 

“Bad time?” He asks, and then he waits another long minute before Isak finally calms down enough to speak. 

“What’s up?” He asks, pushing himself off the door. He can still hear Adam saying something outside, but he tunes it out, remains composed. He doesn’t need to meltdown in front Jonas, who probably has probably been in the studio all morning and heard everything up until now, anyways. 

Jonas just grins instead, one of his kind smiles that eases Isak and he gives in, stepping towards him and welcoming his friend’s compassion, at least for now. 

Jonas knows to let Isak defuse for a few hours, possibly even weeks until he’s ready to talk about it. To properly think things through, make a pros and cons list. This time, he doesn’t want to think about it, he just wants to move the fuck on.

But Isak knows he will pry eventually when this has blown over, and maybe even intervene if it begins again. Jonas has never been one to hide his dislike for Adam, and now Isak wishes he would’ve just listened to him and broke it off before it got to this. 

“The music for the Indie movie trailer needs to be sent in today, do you want to look it over a bit more with me?” He asks, and just like that Isak realizes what this is. Jonas would be dumb not to have heard all the commotion, not to have listened in on the explosive fight that was bound to happen between Isak and Adam for weeks now. Months, maybe even years. Isak doesn’t know how long this has been bubbling between them, always threatening to go overboard. 

But then Adam had proposed after they’d had a surprising few good months together, and for a while, it was like the beginning again, things were exciting with him again, and it seemed alright. Now though, now Isak realizes that he was stupid for ever thinking this could work. Love sucks. 

“Love sucks,” Isak says, and Jonas grins, letting out a chuckle. Jonas wouldn’t know, he’s happily married, but he chuckles nonetheless because he’s got too big of a heart not to try and lighten the situation any way he can. 

“You need a vacation.” He says, and Isak shakes his head. “Yeah you do, you know once we get this music done you’ll have two weeks off for the holidays, so why not go somewhere? I’m travelling to London with Eva, so I won’t be here.”

“Where would I go?”

“I don’t know… Where haven’t you been?”

Now that’s a good question because Isak’s been a lot of places. Not only has his job sent him on multiple trips, mostly free of charge, but his years spent with Adam had often led them on backpacking trips across different parts of the world, and more often than not, Isak would dream about those trips. That’s when life was easiest with him, when the weight of school or work or life wasn’t on them when they could just be the two, navigating the world. 

He doesn’t know what it’d be like to go somewhere alone. 

He suspects it would be, well, _lonely_ overall. 

But, he can’t help the fact that being somewhere alone right now sounds enticing. It sounds necessary. He glances upwards towards Jonas after he realizes he’s been staring at his computer screen for the last minute, blankly. 

“London, huh?” He asks instead, and Jonas sighs this time because he knows what _this_ is, it’s _Isak’s_ way of getting out of a conversation, segueing it into talking about Eva. Jonas can talk about her for fucking hours. And he effectively does just that. 

So that’s where he finds himself, late at night after a day spent in the studio with Jonas, and his assistant Claire, only checking outside _once_ to make sure Adam had really left.

He had, he hadn’t come back inside, he hasn’t texted Isak, he’s just gone. 

The absence of him hurts, but at the same time, Isak feels like a hand that’s been wrapped tightly around his throat for the past few years has finally succeeded in suffocating him, and he’s going to lose all sense of life if he keeps himself cooped up in this house during the holidays, and now he just wants to get out more than ever. 

**Google search:** _vacation spots far from me_

“Alright…where do I wanna go?” He asks himself, sitting at his desk with a glass of his favourite white wine, chewing nervously on his lip as he scrolls through the possibilities. He swivels the chair aimlessly, unable to be anything less than restless. After hearing Jonas talk about London all afternoon, and all the places he’s excited to see, Isak can’t help but want to feel that again. That rush of experience that inspires you to create. He misses being able to sit at a piano and just have the music come to him. “Alone…by myself…at Christmas… completely alone.” He mumbles and then takes a long sip from the wine. 

**Google search:** _vacation spots for someone alone at christmas _

**Google results**: _worry-free vacations_

“Worry-free? Where would that be?” He laughs to himself and then feels pathetic. He coughs and sips his wine to hide the shame as if there's someone around to see him feel that way. 

“Bora-bora… Fuck, _nei_.” Isak remembers sleeping in a cabin all week there because he got a horrible sunburn the first day. “Caribbean? Too many families.” He wanted kids, one day. He thought he did. Adam wanted kids, and had fought with Isak time and time again about it. But Isak knew a kid would just complicate things more, a kid would end up hating them both. _You do this,_ Adam’s voice sends a shiver down his spine, and he wants it to go away. _Almost like you orchestrate it in your own way —_

He takes a big gulp of his wine and then pours another glass, holding it now in his hand. “Vacation rentals… home exchange?”

______________________

_Where do you want to go on your next vacation? _  
_Three clicks are all it takes to Search, Select and Contact. _  
_Your perfect vacation home exchange partner awaits._  
______________________

He ends up searching through the Norway listings, only because his heart is yearning for it. He hasn’t been back in ages, and he’s sourly missing all the food and traditions. Though he won’t admit that. Adam always spent Christmas with his family, and their American traditions were different. Isak liked to pretend that he enjoyed them more than his own.

Isak wonders when the last time he did something was for himself and not Adam, or someone else. Just him. 

The thought of being holed up in a house somewhere far, with no signs of his and Adam’s life together, sounds like Heaven right now.

He clicks on a small, quaint cottage in Bergen, owned by a woman named Sonja. 

“A fairy tale cottage set in the tranquillity of the meadows, below the mountains, only a twenty-minute drive to the city. Snuggle up by the old brick fireplace, and enjoy a glowing fire and a cup of cocoa. Enjoy the nights in, an extensive movie collection to keep you company during a blizzard. Explore the fjords, and fall in love with Norway.” Isak mumbles out the description lazily and monotony, and then his eyes catch onto the only option available on the site: home exchange. He clicks it without thinking twice. 

A message pops up in his inbox a few moments later. 

______________________

**Sonja**

_Hey, interested in a house swap?_

Hey, yes  
I’ve never done anything like this before

_Me neither!_   
_Where are you from?_

  
L.A.

_Wow, no way!_   
_Definitely interested_   
_What do you do?_

______________________

“I ruin every relationship that’s ever been important to me, Sonja, how about you?” He speaks out loud. The wine is getting to him now.

______________________

I’m a music composer for films, you?  
Like I do soundtracks and stuff  
Mostly trailers

_Wow, that's incredible_   
_I work at a newspaper_   
_I’m a journalist_

That’s amazing!  
I’m Isak, by the way

_Sonja :)_   
_So, why the interest in a house swap?_

  
Honestly, Sonja  
I’m gonna be real with you

  
_Go for it! :)_

I just had a bad break up  
and I can’t be in my house anymore  
or L.A.  
at least for the holidays

  
_I haven’t had a breakup, but I agree with the house thing_   
_I can’t sit in here alone for the holidays_

  
Sounds like we both need an out

  
_I think my house would be perfect for you, Isak_

  
As long as you can promise me one thing?

  
_And what is that?_

  
That there are no men in a twenty-mile radius   
who could potentially break my heart

  
_Oh Isak_   
_I can most definitely promise you that :)_

______________________

The days leading up to Isak’s trip are nerve-wracking, to say the least. He hasn’t fully comprehended the fact that he’s going to have someone else living in his house for two weeks - a total stranger, at that. Jonas isn’t too psyched about the idea either, but at least Claire will still be around, she’s keeping emails going steady through the holidays, and Isak couldn’t be more grateful for her.

He and Jonas get high the same night Isak books the home exchange, and Jonas sternly asks him to _promise_ he won't do any work, not write, or look at a single work-related task. Isak agreed because Jonas’ furrowed brows and steady gaze is not something you fuck with while high. 

At least _someone_ will be looking out for his business while he galavants off to a random town in the middle of Bergen. He tries not to think about it too critically. 

Sonja isn’t really a _stranger_ anymore, anyways. She’s more like a pen-pal now, the two of them exchanging emails back and forth almost every hour for the past two days and agreeing on flights and scheduling. 

Isak apologizes for his abruptness the first time they messaged, and Sonja said she enjoyed his honesty, and Isak didn’t have the heart to tell her he was wine-drunk and recently broken up with, but he figures she knew anyways. 

Isak tells her all the different places she can visit, and Sonja is sad to tell him there's not much to do in her town. Again, somehow, this excites Isak. He really doesn’t know what it is that excites him. 

  
______________________

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

That sounds perfect! Nothing to do? I don’t think I’ve ever had that much free time on my hands. I can’t wait. 

______________________

It’s almost too honest, their emails back and forth, but Isak finds it oddly comforting, that there’s someone halfway across the world, and they’ll be swapping lives for a few weeks. Then, they return to their own reality, and they will never bump into one another, so what’s the harm than a little more than necessary honesty? 

That’s Isak’s logic anyways, but mostly he just finds it easier to just let his first thought come to mind and send it her way. 

______________________

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Haha, I’m happy that excites you. 

Are you sure you don’t mind me using your car? 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Of course! Everything that's mine is welcome to you, if you need any help figuring out the gates or the pool, just let me know. :)   
Should I send you the cleaning staff’s schedule? They’re usually only around in the morning, I am happy to send you the number to my caterer as well.   
Oh, and the treadmill is broken, I have a guy coming to fix it in January. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Isak! You’re killing me! You didn’t even tell me you had a pool! Now I need to start packing swimwear! Also, send me anything you want!

And, if you need any help navigating my bookshelves and movie collection, I have lots of recommendations. I might go around leaving a small sticky note on some of my favourites for you if that’s alright? It makes it easier to choose!

Wait, did I tell you I have a cat? You’re not allergic, right?

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

That’s actually pretty sweet Sonja, that’d be chill, I look forward to watching all the ones you recommend the most.

A cat? No, I’m not allergic! But cats don’t particularly enjoy me..so

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

HA, I’m sure they do! 

[image_attachment]

Her name is Freya, she’s sweet. As long as you feed her. If you want I can have a friend come to feed her for you if you don’t want that responsibility!

______________________

Isak doesn’t know how he will possibly be able to feed a cat, let alone himself for two whole weeks, so maybe the friend thing is a good idea. He takes a mental note to respond later because right now his kitchen is being filled with Eva Mohn, who insists on packing lunches for his trip despite the fact that her very own flight leaves in five hours. He lets her rummage through his fridge for a few minutes, but now she really _was_ making actual sandwiches, and he had to stop her. 

“Eva, you—“

“Don’t tell me to go, Isak, I don’t want to. I don’t want Jonas to have to face them.” She pleads, but there's a bite to her tone too. She’s frazzled, that much Isak can tell. He doesn’t even remember when she first stepped in here, he was just having breakfast and then she was there in her pyjamas with her luggage and a big shawl thrown over her head as if she’d escaped from somewhere. 

“Eva, you and Jonas are _married_ now, this is something you face together,” Isak says, and he doesn't even know who he is right now, whose words are these? 

When Eva is in trouble, there two options for her: get incredibly drunk, or bottle it up so tight before she explodes. She’s come to Isak in the past, which is only why he knows she’s in flight mode Eva right now, and he’s trying to find the logic to her struggles. 

Isak knew she was struggling with _something_ because whenever Jonas talked about her, he would sound frequently worried, especially when it was about London, and the trip to see her parents and spend the holidays with them. 

“But Isak—“

“What’s going on, Eva? Do they not know or something?” He asks, and then, a recognition overflowing his features, face softening, he strides towards her before she collectively bursts into tears. “You didn’t tell them? Oh my god, does Jonas know?”

“No, he thinks I told them… I can’t — I thought maybe we’d end up not going or I’d eventually tell them, but I never wanted to. They’ll be so angry with me, and Jonas —” She freezes in Isak’s arms and looks up at Isak for a moment, eyes brimming with tears, cheeks already wet. 

“Eva, you know better than me that Jonas _would_ understand, right? Like, forgive me for stating the obvious here, but that man would love you no matter what, right?” She nods, and Isak continues, “Then you know better than me that you need to talk to him, and figure it out together. For better or worse right?”

“Yeah—“ She sniffs, and they both turn as they hear the front door slamming closed and a confused Jonas walks in. 

And yeah, it’s pretty picturesque, Isak almost feels like he’s intruding. And God, it’s always like this with them. They love each other so much, they’re always in pain because of it, and Isak hates seeing Eva cry. He hates when Jonas cries, even though it is rare. 

Isak looks at them and he thinks of what kind of music he could make for them, a movie about their lives, and it would most definitely be some Shakespearean-level romance, but not too tragic. 

He sends them on their merry way once they talk it out with Isak as a silent mediator, who nods occasionally when either of them looks at him for an opinion, but he never once opens his mouth. He has no fair judgement on the grounds of love. 

It’s odd, to leave his home and know there will be someone occupying it while he’s away. Claire will still come around occasionally to do work in the studio, but that’s about it. 

The cab ride to the airport makes Isak feel queasy. 

He gets on the flight no problem, swallows a sleeping pill and puts on an eye mask to condemn himself to a few hours of sleeping uncomfortably in an airplane seat, because he’s here now, he’s committed to this, and from the way Jonas excitedly told him to make the best of it, he really wants to believe he can. 

Norway always felt like home and looking at it from above, the rolling green hills, now covered in a white, snowy blanket, makes Isak feel all the better about this decision. He can do this. He can spend two weeks alone, holed up from the world, away from work, away from Adam. 

Something aches in his chest then. All the commotion of Eva and Jonas had helped him momentarily forget why he was leaving in the first place. 

Suddenly, there's a voice inside Isak’s head, and though he tries to numb it out by putting on his headphones, it just gets louder. 

_“Isak Valtersen is proud to present, ‘His Life’.”_ He closes his eyes, imagines the trailer of his own life before his eyes. It doesn’t look like any movie he’d ever be interested in, much less, composing music for. But there's a beat in the back, and it sounds dreary, like an old-fashioned cartoon character just got a pie to the face, and now everyone’s laughing in pity. _“He had it all. The job, the house, the guy. This holiday season, find out what Isak doesn’t have.” _

The metaphorical pie has certainly been thrown in Isak’s face and the last thing he needs is some subconscious part of himself sending subconscious bouts of pity. _Shut up,_ he thinks. 

“Ugh.” Isak takes to groaning out loud, turning the music up as loud as it can go and ignoring the stares he gets from the old woman across the way from him. He’s fully aware he’s blasting N.W.A, and he frankly, does not give a single fuck about anyone right now. He can admit, at least, that he’s wallowing. He’s feeling _something_ about his break up with Adam. But he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t feel the need to, not really. 

It’s not that he didn’t _try_, for lack of better words. 

Maybe the bottle of wine impaired his ducts or something, but he did lie in his bed for at least twenty minutes, trying to force some kind of tears to form. He laid there, wheezing, thinking about Adam and how he’s probably fucking David right now, writhing slightly on the bed in pain and anger, but then he just got exhausted, and bored, and turned off the lights and went to bed. Maybe he just doesn’t want to cry about Adam, and he’s fine with leaving it at that. 

He gets in a cab after he’s collected his luggage and gives directions, and then they’re off. It almost feels like a dream being here. It’s quiet and quaint, the snow falling silently in big fat flakes that Isak almost sticks his tongue out to catch.

  
______________________

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Is your house decorated for Christmas?

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

No, Christmas was never really my thing,   
but feel free to do with it what you want.   
I think my garage has some lights and decorations stored somewhere?   
Ask Claire when you meet her.  
Is yours decorated?

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Just a few lights outside and a wreath. Hope you don’t mind? 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Of course not! A little spirit never hurts :) 

  
______________________

Of course it hurts. 

Christmas was just a reminder to Isak about how much everything sucks. Things with Adam were never good around the holidays, and maybe after all these years together, he’s been _forced_ to look at this time of the year with a sour reflection, but it’s been there since before Adam, before Jonas and Eva. Back before when things were unknown and blissful. 

Christmas just plainly reminds him of when his dad left, and no amount of American traditions or wine could possibly make him forget. He knows it wasn’t his fault, he’s come to grow and accept that people make mistakes, highschool and Eskild taught him that much, but it still doesn’t make it hurt any less. It still doesn’t make him want to reconcile. 

Besides, he had his mother through it all, and the musical passions that helped him meet his friends, and gave him a career he could support both himself and his mother on. Maybe his dad leaving was more of a Christmas miracle, the catalyst that ignited the rock bottom, and then the climb out. He almost wants to thank his Dad, but that would just be weird. 

Christmas was the only time his mother would crack throughout the year, though she remained strong and positive for Isak for all the warm months, she got worse in the winter when it was colder and darker. Isak shivers and remembers yearning for the days when the sun wouldn't set until late.

“Excuse me? We’re here.” The driver states as if he’s been trying to get Isak’s attention for the past few minutes now. Isak presses the button to roll down the window and stares blankly at the area around them, blinking away his spiralled thoughts and a wave of confusion sets over him. They’re surrounded by trees and a snowy road is ahead. No civilization in sight, only the sound of the quiet woods around them, almost hauntingly so. 

“Wheres the house?” Isak asks, dumbfounded. 

“About a twenty-minute walk up the road. Sorry, this is as far as I can go.”

Isak huffs, “What?”

“What? I can’t turn around if I go further.” 

Isak huffs again and then hopes it’s not his first inclination that he shouldn’t have come here. This trip was unplanned, and as Isak looks out at his snowy surroundings, he feels his throat lock up. “That’s fine, I’ll walk.” He'll just have to compromise for the sake of compromising. 

He should’ve dressed warmer, is the first thing that comes to mind, as he shoves on his leather gloves and tightly wraps his scarf around his neck and ears. He’d forgotten a hat, of course. And his jacket is much too light for the kind of cold this is. He forgot how cold it gets here. That hurts, too. But thankfully, it's way too fucking cold to think about _why_ that hurts, so he’s focusing on walking instead. 

He’s walking in his sneakers, and they’re positively soaked by the time he reaches a clearing, struggling to drag his luggage behind him. 

He passes a couple, noticing their bundled up hats and scarves and multiple layers, not to mention the heavy boots that help them trudge through the snow. He gives them the best smile he can muster and prays he looks somewhat approachable. 

“Halla, do you know where this address is?” He asks, and they look down at his phone where Sonja had sent him her address a few days earlier. 

“Oh, just about fifteen minutes that way.”

“Fifteen — _faen_.” He huffs, and they give him an awkward chuckle. “Thank you, have a good day.”

They nod and continue their walk, and Isak trudges through the snow like a Viking on a mission, imagining himself huddled by the fireplace in Sonja’s cute little cottage, watching movies and drinking cocoa. Possibly, if it happens, pet the cat. 

The house is as cute as the picture, and as he swings the small frigid gate open and it gives him a little ring as a welcome, he can’t help but practically run to the door and find the key Sonja had told him she’d left behind for him, cold, and placed beneath a potted plant. 

He swings the door open and the wreath hanging on it shakes, but he pays no mind to it, wanting to relish in the warmth of the cottage. 

He is more than disappointed to find that the house is cold, almost impossibly colder than it is outside. He shrugs off his things and his wet shoes, leaving his wet socks at the door, and changes into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie right there in the foyer. 

It’s then that he notices the cat, Freya, perched on the steps. She’s overwhelmingly fluffy, and judgemental if her stare has anything to say. He gives her a wave and then feels ridiculous that he just did that. 

“Hey, I’m Isak.” He says, and she swings her tail around. “I’ll be your roommate this holiday. Didn’t Sonja tell you?” He asks, and then with no response, he shrugs and turns his heel. 

He begins getting himself situated, leaving his luggage open and the clothes sprawled around after his attempt to change into something warmer. The kitchen is small, with blue cupboards and an old gas stove that he doesn’t even want to attempt cooking with just yet. There is a microwave, and he knows he can easily survive on microwaved meals. He quickly checks the cupboard for which one holds the cat food and places it out on the counter to remind himself. 

He finds the coffee machine next and surprises himself with how easy it is to make coffee. He usually begs Claire to make it, because Jonas insists on making it the slow-drip way and nobody has time for that luxury. 

While it brews, he goes to the living room and stops to admire the wall-to-wall bookshelf that surrounds the television, filled with colourful novels and movies, littered with photos and small sculptures. It could almost reign in as champion next to his own movie collection, which he didn't tell Sonja about. As promised, there are sticky notes on some of them, and Isak pulls one out just to check what they’ve got written on them:

**Fantastic Mr. Fox - dir. Wes Anderson**   
_I highly recommend watching each Wes Anderson film I have on this shelf, but this one is my fave :)_

He lets out a hum as he puts it back on the shelf, and he can feel himself smiling at it. This might be one of Jonas’ best ideas yet. Freya is following him, it seems, and Isak doesn’t mind. He figures it means he’s not totally alone out here. 

He goes to the fireplace, throwing in a few logs, and after a twenty-minute fight with the lighter, he gets something akin to a fire starting, and leaves it be, hoping it’ll continue to flame on its own volition. All the while, Freya watches him, following him from room to room, seemingly trying to figure out who he is. If only he knew the answer to that question himself. 

He chooses one of the movies at random and puts it in the player, lounging on the couch and making himself at home, his coffee beside him. He reads the note attached to it: 

**Dirty Dancing - dir. Emile Ardolino**   
_The same director of Sister Act (and if you haven’t seen it, go find it on this shelf afterwards!)_

______________________

  
To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Hey Sonja, your house is gorgeous, its like a dream. Thank you again. I honestly don’t know how to even extend my gratitude for this much, much needed trip.

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

You didn't tell me you lived in a mansion, Isak!!

Although I should’ve guessed, famous music composer living in L.A., with cleaning services, a gym, a freaking pool!  
You’ve given me a dream house too, Isak. :) 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Haha, make yourself comfortable.   
What's mine is yours. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Same goes to you, and I hope Freya warms up to you!

______________________

Freya has warmed up to him, apparently, deciding that he’s alright and coming to sit next to him on the couch, her head resting in his lap. It’s an odd affection, and he welcomes it, welcomes the thought of trying new things. Maybe he should get a cat, too. Maybe that’s how he’ll fill this void. 

He fantasizes about Patrick Swayze for half the night, watching Dirty Dancing, and by the time the credits roll he feels himself getting anxious. 

By midnight, Isak is going stir-crazy. 

He’s set up all his things in the drawers Sonja left empty for him, he’s showered in her small, dark shower, ignoring the deep tub that he figured he could indulge in later if he wanted to. 

But now, standing in the living room, the fire dying out, and Freya napping beside it, he can’t help but feel impossibly more alone. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Maybe Jonas was wrong. Maybe Isak shouldn’t have run away the second things got complicated. Maybe Adam was right about him. Maybe Isak had to start owning up to things._ You do this._

His phone lights up, and he grabs for it eagerly. But then his stomach turns, and he rolls his eyes. 

  
______________________

**DONT TEXT**

_You went to Norway, Isak? _   
_For the holidays???_   
_Running away again, huh?_   
_You didn’t even tell me_

I don’t have to tell you anything, Adam.   
I’m a grown man.   
And I’m single.   
I can do what I want

_I would’ve appreciated a call_

You don’t get to appreciate anything  
You don’t get to want anything from me anymore  
You’re free of me, Adam, so leave me alone

_I don’t think I’ll ever be free of you, Isak_   
_Where are you staying?_

I’m going to bed now  
Stop texting me

______________________

The bed is smaller than his own California king, and he misses being able to spread across the mattress like a starfish, but this twin will have to do. 

He bundles up in the duvet, and after Freya has claimed a small part of the end of the bed for herself, he finds himself getting restless again. The soft and warm bed nearly suffocates him to the point where he throws off all the soft blankets and sits up angrily. 

He gets up, pacing around the room, and then goes downstairs. 

He finds what he’s looking for easily, a bottle of wine under the sink, and pulls out a glass for himself as he pours a generous amount into it, gulping it back before he even places the bottle back down. 

He finds himself in the living room, sifting through Sonja’s records and then picks one out, putting it on full blast and trying his best to drown out this dreadful, impending doom of a feeling. 

**Hot Fuss - The Killers**

_Don't be afraid to let loose, Isak! And this is the perfect album for it!_

He tries to let loose, jumping around the room in reckless abandon, something he’d actually never be caught dead doing, but he feels knee-deep in solitude right now, the wine flowing through his system as he dances around and screams out the lyrics. 

It feels good. For once it feels like his chest is lighter and not constricting. 

But then suddenly, the door is jingling, and Isak cuts the music as fast as he can and waits. 

“It’s me. Open up. It’s freezing.” A man's voice cuts through, and it's deep and unexpected. Isak freezes. 

“Who are you?” He asks, aware of how terrified his voice sounds. 

“Sonja, it’s me, please open up. I have to pee so bad, and if you don’t open this door I’m going to just go in your plants.” 

Isak strides over and opens the door quickly, ready to cuss out whoever is on the other side of that door for showing up at this hour, but his breath escapes him completely. 

Before him stands a tall man, who’s got his hands up by his collar, shivering to shield himself from the snowfall as if he’d walked here. And maybe he did, because his blonde hair is all swooped up but sparkling, covered in snow, his blue eyes bright and his cheeks tinged pink. 

His expression goes of one from shock, to fascination, and the air hangs, both of them seemingly at a loss for words. 

And Isak closes the door quickly in his face. 

He looks at himself in the mirror and judging by his own flushed cheeks, the wine has most certainly gotten to him. 

This is an _illusion_, for sure. 

There is no way a man that beautiful has just ended up on Isak’s doorstep. He’s fucking _angelic,_ is what he is, and Isak just closed the door on his face. He fixes his hoodie, and his hair then opens the door again. 

The gorgeous stranger is still standing there, a look of awe on his face as he looks at Isak, and Isak is mesmerized watching his breath come out in small puffs in the cold air. He meets Isak’s eyes quickly, and Isak gives him a glare, because _what the fuck. Who are you. How dare you._

“You’re not Sonja.” He says, and Isak feels a shiver go down his spine.

“Obviously I’m not,” Isak responds back, and despite trying his best to not sound snarky, it comes out that way anyways. The man doesn’t seem to mind, his smile widening seemingly means he’s enjoying the banter. 

“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I wasn’t expecting you.” He responds after a moment, clearly still stunned by Isak’s presence, and Isak huffs. 

“I wasn’t expecting you either.”

The man lifts his brow, a challenging smirk on his face as he bounces on his heels, a brief look of concentration passing over his features, of discomfort. 

“May I uh…use the bathroom?” He pleads, and Isak quickly moves away to let this stranger pass through the door.

He’s quick, and toes off his shoes in a neat corner before heading to the small washroom off to the side. For someone with such long limbs and seemingly drunk, he’s oddly graceful. 

Isak looks back at himself in the mirror again, and quickly pulls off his hoodie, unsure why he feels like he looks too messy for this kind of company. He straightens out his tee and fixes his hair again just as the man steps out.

“I’m Even, Sonja’s friend.” He says after a minute of them just staring at one another again. You see, he’d stepped out of the bathroom, and practically caught Isak fixing his hair in the mirror, so then they just kept looking at one another as an awkward silence filled between them. 

“Isak Valtersen.” 

“Is that one word? _Isakvaltersen?_” Even asks, looking serious for a moment, but then he chuckles, and Isak lets out a shaky laugh in response. Even puts his hands in his coat pockets, tilts his head to the side, his gaze unwavering. 

“No,” Isak responds shyly, unable to look up and meet Even’s eyes. His heart is pounding in his ears, his cheeks so red and he very much regrets drinking a bottle of wine in less than thirty minutes. He hates that he’s resorted to this puddle of nerves right in front of a stranger, one whom he can’t remain composed in front of right now no matter how hard he tries. 

“So…Sonja is… where, exactly?”

“She didn't tell you?” Isak meets his eyes and Even shakes his head curiously, waiting for Isak to continue. “We uh…swapped houses. On a home exchange website. She’s at mine, I’m at hers.”

“And you’re from…?”

“L.A.” He nods and Even gasps.

“That’s not possible. Sonja never leaves town.” 

Isak laughs, “Well, neither do I, but here we are.” He sing-songs awkwardly, and raises his arms as if he’s presenting himself to Even. He doesn’t miss the way Even’s eyes move up and down, calculated, raw. He doesn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that. Something shifts inside of his belly, and he feels the heat beginning to stir.

“She did call me this morning…I missed it, now I feel bad.” He shrugs and then leans against the wall casually, as if he _wasn’t_ just eye-fucking Isak a second ago. “Do you mind if we sit? I feel a bit dizzy.” He laughs, and Isak nods quickly and follows as Even enters the living room, falling unceremoniously onto the couch and curling up, hands reaching for the floor, putting his head between his knees. 

“Are you okay?” Isak asks, feeling lightheaded himself. He’s overwhelmed with the urge to just jump into this mans arms, straddle him, hold him. He swallows, and it's audible in the silence between them. Even sits straight back up with a heavy sigh. 

“Yes, I’m sorry about the intrusion. I obviously didn’t know Sonja wouldn’t be here or else — well, I wouldn’t have come. And though I may not appear it, I’m a much better friend than this. On the rare, or not so rare, occasion that I get drunk at a bar, Sonja always lets me sleep over. Pathetic, I know, but….anyways, how are you liking it here so far?” He rambles, barely slurring his words, and then looks to Isak with a blinding smile.

There's too much he wants to ask, too much to unwrap in a single sentence to this man he just met, who's sitting on his couch and looking so deliriously delicious and inviting that Isak just wants to throw a blanket over his face to stop his thoughts from spiralling further. To stop the heat in his groin from becoming unbearable. 

“Actually…not so great. I think I’m gonna head home tomorrow.” He responds, a little too much honesty sinking through his words. Sue him, he’s a mess right now. 

“When did you get here?” Even asks.

“This morning.” He shuffles, chuckling nervously, and Even gives him a critical stare. 

“Ah, so we’ve made a great impression on you, apparently.” 

“It’s not that…It’s honestly lovely here I just…I came here on a whim, and I’m not doing so great so…It’s unlike me to plan things, and now that I'm here and I realize how much free time I have, it’s driving me crazy…Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? Wine?”

“Would you have a glass?” He asks, clearly accepting the latter. Isak nods and heads to the kitchen to retrieve yet another bottle stuffed in the cupboard, and a wine glass for Even. 

“Thanks.” Even says as he sits up on the couch, and Isak sits next to him, pulling his feet under him and sitting cross-legged with the glass in his hands. “I’m sorry but…I forgot your name.” 

“Isak.” He says quietly, blushing furiously, a little angry at that sentiment, so when it comes out snarky he means it this time. But Even just laughs and any anger he felt dissipates, turning into something else he can’t put a finger on just yet. It just makes his stomach stir more. 

“Isak Valtersen. Yes. That's a good name. One I'll remember. Very strong. You seem strong.” 

Isak gulps on the wine to avoid choking on his tongue.   
  
“Really?” Isak asks, realizing he’s finished his full glass in what he wanted to just be a simple sip. Even chuckles, seemingly not taking notice to Isak's inner turmoils. 

“Yeah, I mean. For someone who plans everything, but then drops everything to come here? You have to be strong for that.”

“Why?”

“Because...It’s kinda boring. And quiet. Everyone knows each other, honestly, it gets a bit frustrating.” He huffs and then looks to Isak for an answer. 

“I don’t feel strong… But whatever. Like it matters.” Isak shrugs.

“Are you married?”

“Me? No…No, I’m not. No.” He says quickly, and tries to shrug off the fact that his answer was way too overt: a simple _no, you?_ would have sufficed.

“That makes two of us.” Even nods curtly, and then sips his wine. It leaves a red tint on his lips, and as he smiles, Isak is mesmerized to the way his cheeks pull up, the way his lips stretch, the way his teeth look and he can imagine them biting down— 

“Is it alright if I stay over? I will be gone before you wake up, and you’ll never lay eyes on me again.”

_Is it weird that I want you to be here in the morning?_

“No, it's fine. Let me get you a blanket.”

“It’s in the cupboard there.” He points, and Isak scrambles over to grab it before walking back over and handing it to Even, who looks up at him graciously, like he’s soaking up Isak too, and for a moment, they just stare again at one another. “So…why is it that you came here? Forgive me, I’m curious.” He says then, adding a dazzling grin and Isak can’t resist, sitting down next to him again.

“I…just broke up with someone. It ended really badly and I didn't want to be alone over the holidays, so I thought if I could be somewhere else, I wouldn’t realize I was alone and then I got here and—“ He sighs, the look on Even’s face encourages him to keep going. “Big surprise, I'm even lonelier. Not that Freya hasn’t kept me company all day, but…” He chuckles and Even tries to give him a laugh as well. “Bet you’re sorry you knocked on Sonja’s door tonight,” Isak mumbles, about to lean over and grab his cup but Even begins speaking again.

“Actually, quite the opposite.” Even says, and his tone is so sincere, his eyes so wide as he unapologetically stares at Isak. For a long moment, as the air hangs and they let themselves stare unabashedly as if Even is also seeing Isak in some holy lighting right now, Isak truly believes him. Isak can’t do anything _but_ believe him. “I’m really happy I’m here.” 

Isak does the most irrational thing, next. He leans forward and swoops in, pressing his lips to Even’s. A chaste kiss, and it sends his brain into overdrive. 

“Sorry.” He says after a moment, beginning to move away but Even reaches for him, a gentle hand at the back of his neck that grips _just so,_ and Isak melts as Even meets his lips again, his mouth covering Isak’s and it’s so delicious it makes his head swim. 

Then he moves away, almost as fast he begun, and Isak sits, stunned into silence. 

“Could you try that again?” Isak asks politely, thankful his voice doesn’t come out as a squeak. 

Even doesn't even respond, he just grabs for Isak's cheeks and holds him so delicately as he kisses him, tongue moving to swipe at Isak’s lower lip and his mouth falls open in a moan. Even’s tongue is instantly in his mouth, and its the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, the warmth and the wetness, hints of wine and cigarettes, and he moans again, feeling like a teenager. 

“Bad?” Even asks, pulling away, and his eyes are giving him away, dark and lustful, his lips looking sinful and obscene with how plump and wet they are.

“It should be, right? I mean, you’re a stranger. It should be weird.” 

“But it isn’t?”

“Not at all.” Isak responds, and Even kisses him again, this time a little more desperate, a little dirtier, his tongue licking the inside of Isak’s mouth like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. He lets out an involuntary whine, and Even moves away, but just close enough so that their noses brush against one another. Isak doesn’t open his eyes for a moment, savouring the closeness, and when he does, Even is looking back at him. He licks his lips, steadies his uneven breathing. 

“Given that I’m in a personal crisis, and I find myself in a stranger's home, and considering _you_ showed up _and_ you’re insanely good looking…I'm thinking, we should fuck.” Isak says, and Even barks out a surprised laugh, and Isak can’t help but flush because of it. It’s a beautiful sound, and he wants to fill his ears with it. It’s more beautiful than anything he could possibly compose in a lifetime. 

“That’s a great proposition.” Even huffs out a breath, already looking spent just from a kiss. Isak wonders if he looks the same, he certainly feels close to it. 

“Not that it matters, but I’ve never said anything like that in my life.” Isak chuckles, and the look on Even’s face says he thinks otherwise. “I'm serious, I had a whole bottle of wine to myself and this…this whole _never seeing you again_ thing is exciting, don't you think?”

“This all sounded wonderful until I became the one night stand.” 

“And you’re funny. That’s a bonus.” 

“Yes, well, maybe it’s because I’m drunk, or maybe it’s because you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, but if you think I’m funny, now you should never meet me when we’re sober.”

“Deal.” Isak says and Even kisses him, chaste and quick, before he sits back, his hands falling to his sides. Isak wants to climb into his space, suffocate him and ride him right here on the couch until the sun comes up. 

But he doesn’t, he sits, silence overflowing between them painfully.

“I should warn you…I’m not really…good at this?” Isak winces at his own words and Even looks at him quizzically, an amused smirk taking over. 

_“This_ being?”

“Sex. I’ve been told I’m not good.”

“That’s harsh. And probably untrue.” He lets out a small, concerning laugh, but Isak just rolls his eyes. 

“Well, regardless, you never forget something like that, so.” Isak shrugs, suddenly feeling pathetic. He can’t go through with this, he knows he shouldn’t, but the wine and Even sitting right there looking so gorgeous is just _doing_ things for him. He can already feel his body responding, his mind filled with need. 

“How do you feel about foreplay?” Even asks, and it’s the strangest thing, but Isak likes it, and he laughs while his face flushes. 

“Overrated.” Isak laughs and Even joins him. 

“You are quickly becoming the most interesting person I’ve ever met, Isak.” He says, and Isak stands, grabbing the bottle of wine before he can think it through, and holds his hand out for Even, who takes it with a growing smirk on his face. 

He leads Even upstairs, and after a moment, he’s got Freya out of the bed and he closes the door. Even stands there in the room, looking lost, and Isak can’t handle being this far from him anymore. He places the bottle down and lunges towards him.

Even catches him in his arms as they meet in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation as if they both need this right now -- as if they'll die if they don't do this_ right now_. They fall back on the bed, and Isak climbs over him, straddling his waist and revelling in Even’s hands, travelling up under his shirt, tugging at it to get it off, and Isak moans, his hips moving in small circles and Even lets out a deep hum against him.

“You're better at this than you think.” Even whispers and Isak dives back in once he’s got his shirt off. Its a blur of teeth and tongue and Isak is so spent by the end that he falls asleep soon after. 

Things are better in the morning, Isak realizes, as he wakes up nude and well-slept. He thinks he might have had the best sex of his life last night, and the hickeys on his neck prove it. He lets himself just smile about it for a moment because as if his memory serves, he literally travelled to the stars last night. He doesn’t think he’s ever experienced something like that, and for once, this vacation seems to be turning in his favour. Still, it doesn't make him any more inclined to stay here and figures he’ll book a flight home today. 

He does debate if he should stay in the warmth of the blankets for a little longer, but his stomach suggests otherwise. He’s so spent, he needs sustenance. He needs coffee. He needs something to distract him from messaging Sonja and asking him why she didn't warn about the possibility of an angel appearing on his doorstep, drunk and willing, only to find Isak, also drunk and willing. Recipe for disaster, really. 

But also, he feels that a few of the knots in his stomach have unravelled, and he lets it stay that way. He doesn’t dig into why they’ve unravelled, he just lets them. 

He groans as he puts on a pair of boxers and sweats, a sweater and a hoodie, before wrapping the duvet around him as well. This house is cold as fuck, his toes and fingers feel numb from it. Now he regrets sleeping naked. 

He walks downstairs, sees Freya’s bowl filled with food, and then stops. He didn't fill it. 

He walks into the kitchen and freezes at the sight before him. 

Even is still here, dressed in the clothing he came in, making coffee and eggs. 

“Hey, you’re awake. Good morning.” He says with a laugh, and he looks just as fucked out as Isak probably does right now. His hair is flopping over his forehead, his eyes are still sparkling, and he looks just as dreamy as Isak’s drunk brain remembers. Fuck. 

“I am.” He states and Even looks him up and down, clearly amused.

“You cold?” He asks, stating the obvious. “Very cute, coming down with the duvet. I started a fire, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be here in the morning,” Isak says and immediately regrets it. He doesn't mean to sound so cold, but the look on Even’s face almost breaks his composure. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I'm starving, what about you?” 

“Yeah, I could go for some… eggs.” He nods awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably, but Even just looks away, looking totally nonchalant. He reaches over and turns up the stereo, and Isak rolls his eyes, accepting his fate. 

He makes his coffee silently, trying his best not to bump into Even who seems to be all long limbs and constantly in the way. It’s infuriating. Isak is angry, but mostly at himself. Why did he let himself just pass out afterwards? He should’ve made Even go back to the couch, say goodbye right then. He sits at the table as Even places down two plates, toast and eggs. 

“Uh…listen. You don’t have to like..stay here or anything. I know I sounded like a miserable fuck last night, but I'm fine, honestly.” Isak says, and Even glances towards him, seemingly amused if his small smile has anything to say. Isak presses on, watching as Even eats, offering no opinion as of yet. His expression is unreadable, its inscrutable. He looks like he’s just enjoying this, like he can’t feel the awkwardness of it all. “I mean, it was great meeting you and everything, but you don’t have to stay.”

“Is it so bad of me that I _wanted_ to stay?” He asks, and Isak refuses to accept the flutter in his heart, the growing butterflies in his stomach, and he shakes his head for good manners. “For the record, whoever told you you aren’t good in bed are mistaken.” He says with an air of certainty, and Isak tries to cover his face in the duvet, groaning as his face goes red. 

“You were drunk.” Isak says, voice muffled in the blanket. 

“Not that drunk.” He laughs, and then his phone rings, and Isak doesn’t mean to look, but it’s sitting facing open on the table and the name ‘Sophie’ lights up. 

“Sophie.” He says as Even scrambles for it, a grim look overtaking his features. “Sorry, I don’t mean to… pry or anything.” He shrugs and finally begins eating. _Fuck,_ as if Even wasn’t already perfect, his cooking is delicious. Maybe it's the post-incredible-sex high, or just the amount of sleep he got, but he doesn’t think eggs ever tasted better. This is ridiculous. 

“I’ll call her back.” He shrugs, and then that's the end of that discussion.

Even is quiet now, uncharacteristically so, even avoiding his eyes, and it makes Isak more nervous than when Even had his full attention on him. Something akin to regret settles, and Isak chews on the inside of his cheek throughout the breakfast, barely able to stomach it. 

_This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This is why I didn't want you to stay. _

They eat silently, and once they’re done, Isak tells him he’ll clean it later.

“Yeah…I should go.” Even says quietly, almost as if he’s waiting for Isak to say something else, maybe give him a reason not to, but Isak just shrugs.

“Sure.” He nods and stands by the stairs as he watches Even put his coat and boots on. Even looks sad, and Isak is desperate to ask why but he’s afraid of the answer. He lets him get bundled, and Isak sighs at the sight because he’ll never see something cuter than this. Even looks like a puppy that’s been kicked, and Isak feels like he's the one that did it. _Fuck._

“Listen…um…I know you don't want to get involved, and you’re going to leave today anyway, but I just…I have issues of my own, and even if you were staying, you wouldn’t like it—“

“Even, please. You don’t have to do this.” _Don’t make it harder than it already is_. Isak sighs. “I’m damaged in this area myself, so… and honestly, we hardly know each other—“  
  
“I wouldn’t say that.” He remarks with a charming smile, and winks and Isak would do anything to keep it comfortable and flirty between them. But there's a Sophie involved that Isak can’t stop thinking about now. And his heart hurts more than it should. Everything hurts. It's hard to remain composed, so he needs Even to leave now. “Anyways, I just wanted to assure you that you’re better off…I tend to... to hurt people, just by being myself.”

_I doubt it._ “Well, I’m not going to fall in love with you. I promise.” Isak lets out a laugh, which Even follows. His sounds dejected and stilted, but Isak doesn’t dwell on it. He can't dwell on it right now, there are so many _other_ things he needs to think about, get back home to. Even needs to _go_. 

“Alright, thanks I guess.” Even says, giving a half-hearted shrug, as if Isak’s words affected him. 

“No, I mean — I know myself. I don’t think I ever actually — this is going to sound crazy, because I mean, I was pretty much _engaged_ at one point and now… anyway, I’m not sure if I’m capable of it.” He stops talking, because he's too sober to reveal this information, but standing in front of Even now, he feels pulled to, almost a need to keep going. “Capable of falling in love, I mean. Not like how other people experience it.”

“Like I said, the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” Even laughs freely now, and Isak finds himself laughing along, almost in a way that doesn't feel self-deprecating. It feels freeing, being able to admit his issues with Even, who seems all the more adamant about staying even after Isak just dumped some garbage about his life on him, but Isak gestures to the door. 

“Well,” Isak says, and Even reaches for the handle, but then stops.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this honest with someone, but I tend not to... uh… _follow_ _through_ with people after a date.. or, nights like this. Not that they happen often, anyway.” Even says, looking at Isak with an intensity he’s not sure if he enjoys. 

“That’s fine. You’re off the hook.” Isak is about to step forward and literally push him out the door, but Even’s next words, the way he doesn't miss a beat, makes Isak freeze. 

“But what if I wanted to call you?” He asks, and his tone is so vulnerable, his question so filled with wonder and need that Isak preens. Composed, of course, because Isak is good at staying stone-cold in the face of danger. And that's _exactly_ what Even is: dangerous. He’s making Isak feel things he’s never felt before, not even with Adam, as hard as that is to admit. He's not sure if he wants to travel further, and its the uncertainty that makes him feel all the warier. 

“Right… well.” Even says, clearly taking Isak’s stunned silence as a no. “If your flight is cancelled, or you change your mind, I’ll be at the Lobby bar tonight with some friends.” He says, and nothing sounds better. “And if we never see each other again, then…well, you’re amazing, Isak Valtersen. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Isak steps towards him and in another irrational, totally-sober move, he wraps his arms around Even and hugs him tight. He breathes him in, soaking up these last moments. 

“So are you.” He whispers and Even melts, holding him back just as tight before he makes his way out, giving Isak one last look before he’s walking off. Closing this door is the hardest thing Isak’s ever done in his life. He rests his forehead against it for a moment, as his heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might just keel over. 

He cleans the dishes and goes upstairs to pack. 

The announcer voice from the plane suddenly comes back, and Isak groans, Freya meows, and he wants to scream. 

_“Isak Valtersen didn’t go looking for love,”_ The voice states, and images of Even flash through his mind.

“Shut up!” Isak shouts at nothing.

_“But that doesn’t mean love didn't find him.” _

He packs faster, his breath feeling caught in his throat. 

______________________

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

You failed to mention that I might get a surprise visitor. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Oh god, did Even show up??? I’m so sorry! I tried calling him and texting him, but he’s shit at answering. I hope he didn't make you uncomfortable. He’s one of my oldest friends, I’m going to call him right now(!!) and make sure he knows not to bother you. 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Haha, it's fine, really.   
Even’s nice. Just…unexpected. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Even is the best person I know (aside from Claire!). Also, did you know your neighbour Arthur is like, one of the most influential directors ever?? 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

I would say yes, but that would be a lie. Now I sound like a bad neighbour. 

You met Claire, huh? 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

I feel like a bad friend! I'm sorry, I totally forgot about Even. He won’t answer my calls, but I promise he won’t come around anymore.

Yeah, she showed me your studio! So cool!

______________________

Isak almost types out _no, I don’t mind him being around, _but stops himself. 

______________________

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

It’s fine, honestly.   
Besides, he got a call from Sophie and ran outta here pretty quick. 

Thanks, I miss it </3

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Did he tell you about Sophie?

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

He didn’t have to. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Yeah, it’s all pretty complicated, Sophie is Even’s world. 

Anyways, I have to go, but I’ll email later. I’ve got a date with Arthur! 

______________________

Well, that's just the icing on the fucking cake. This trip is more of a disaster than Isak thought it would be. It’s only created more problems on top of his existing ones, and he refuses to let himself think about it until he gets home. 

He hasn’t even booked a flight, he realizes, and it's that thought that stops him in his tracks, just as he’s about to bear the cold and go walk to find a cab to take him to the airport. 

Maybe _one_ more night wouldn’t hurt him. 

Maybe he needs to stop running away for once. 

He goes to the Lobby bar after finding directions on his phone, surprised to find it’s actually not that far of a walk from Sonja’s. He wonders if that’s why Even walks to sleep off the alcohol at her place. He wonders how close they are. 

He stumbles in from the cold, covered with snow and regret. At least he can get drunk properly now, not just on wine and deal with a dull headache for the next day. 

It’s smokey and noisy, over-crowded for such a small town bar, but he welcomes it. It feels homey and comfortable, nothing like the bars and clubs in L.A., where everyone is drunk or on drugs or a mix of both, looking for a quick one night stand to stave off the sadness. Everything there is all hard leather and neon lights, and here, it's warm. Everyone looks friendly, like they're all just drinking to enjoy it. He could enjoy it, too.

He shuffles off his coat, shuffles off the cold. Immediately, almost like the stars were aligning, but really it's just the crowded bar making a space in the room, Even’s eyes find Isak’s. 

He smiles, blinding Isak and he’s hit with warmth and feelings. He forgets about everything for a moment as he feels it, forgets about the heartbreak that led him here, the frustration of his first day, the high he felt in Even’s presence. He forgets about Sophie. 

Isak smiles back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope the formatting wasn't too buggy, if you think theres a better option for it lemme know, but this is really the only chapter thats more 'email' heavy - so! <3


	2. the tears don't flow here

Isak stumbles out of bed with an _oof_, almost falling off of it completely. He’d momentarily forgotten how small Sonja’s bed was. The beds a mess, a tangled bunch of sheets that hug him comfortably, his naked body feeling spent _yet again_, and he lets out a sound of pure bliss at the feeling of it. He tries to stretch, but because of how recklessly he seemed to have slept, he’s so twisted into the sheets that he’s unable to move. 

It’s only then that he realizes just _how_ nude he is, and he quickly thrashes off the sheets, moving over to the dresser to pull out his sweats and a hoodie. He brushes his teeth, and run his hands under the hot water to stop them from freezing off completely. He needs his fingers for _things_, like playing the piano, and… _Even_ related things. 

He splashes his face with some of the water to calm those thoughts now running through his mind, and cups some of the water and runs it through his hair to make it look a little less wild than it already is. He knows what’s waiting downstairs for him this morning, or better yet, _who_, so he grips the sides of the bathroom sink for a moment and takes a few composing breaths. _Relax, it’s just Even._

But it’s not _just Even_. Even isn’t someone you can sweep under the rug, throw them onto a pros and cons list like they’re nothing more than an afterthought. Even isn’t _just_ anything, he’s _more_ than everything combined. Isak doesn’t know how he’s supposed to remain composed with him. 

After arriving at the bar, Isak had felt too nervous to just stride over confidently and greet him, taking in that Even was surrounded by a group of rowdy friends, and the last thing they needed was for Even to stumble over his introduction and embarrass them both. How would’ve he introduced him, anyway? _This is Isak, a guy I slept with last night. We had amazing, mind-blowing sex and he told me he was leaving but now he’s... here._ _Tadaa!_

_Yeah_, he was better off just waiting for Even to come over to him. He made it to the bar, Isak did his part, and now, he waits. 

So, he’d sat at the bar, and ordered a draft beer, occasionally casting a longing glance over to Even, who’s face looked twisted in regret since he couldn’t escape his friends. Even would just give him apologetic smiles each time their eyes met, making Isak flush more than the alcohol does to him, and that lasted for the first ten minutes of Isak’s arrival. 

He eventually did escape, and came to Isak’s rescue, pointing to the empty stool next to him where someone had only just left, practically buzzing with excitement as he bounced on his feet. Isak could feel it radiating off of him, and he assumed Even could feel Isak’s own excitement. Isak sat a little straighter, arched his back a little more, sat with his hip to the side and looked up at Even, blinking a few times bashfully and fighting back a grin. 

_“Is this seat taken?”_ Even had asked. Isak had looked at the seat, and saw before him the opportunity he was about to take, to actually sit and listen and learn about Even, and he was so overwhelmed that despite wanting to reply back something borderline flirtatious, he’d gotten coy, and simply said,

_“No.”_ as his face flushed under Even’s blue stare. Things got fuzzy after that. 

Isak looks up at himself in the mirror, and squares his shoulders, shakes his head around a bit, stands a little straighter, and then finally makes his way downstairs, composed. 

He finds Even fumbling with the coffee maker, dressed in Isak’s sweats and his hoodie, rolled up to his elbows, woollen socks bunched up at the bottom of his pants. The sight causes Isak to pause in the doorway, soaking up Even’s lean frame and his gorgeous profile, not to mention how _soft_ his hair looks, swirled at the front, defying gravity as usual. He’s positively delicious and it’s unnerving how well he looks in Isak’s clothes. Isak's mouth waters and he stands there dumbfounded for a few seconds before Even notices him, previously humming to himself. 

“Oh, hey, you’re awake. Good morning.” He smiles casually, greeting him in his familiar, warm manner. Isak is _sure_ that he looks terrible, his hair is a mess despite his effort of trying to contain it, and his head is _throbbing_. Even gives him another smile, raising his eyebrows and for a moment, it feels like the headache is bearable. He sighs. 

“I haven’t had that much to drink in… forever.” Isak grumbles out as he goes to fill a glass of water at the tap before rifling through the cupboards and finding his prize: _ibuprofen. Amazing. Thank you Sonja. _

“I don’t think anyone has _ever_ drank that much.” Even laughs at Isak’s expense, and Isak shoots him a feigned look of annoyance. Even's smile only widens, and it makes Isak's stomach do that funny flip again. He’s way too perky, way too _charming_, at this time in the morning. _Does his charm ever rest?_ Isak holds back from rolling his eyes, too focused on trying to calm the waves rolling in his stomach. 

“The last thing I remember is coming here…and—“ Isak stops, spotting the trail of clothing that leads up the stairs, and didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. He was too focused on trying to remain composed before being confronted with Even again, he didn’t even _realize_ the obvious facts right in front of him, that they _must’ve_ slept together again, taking off their clothes on the way up as if they couldn’t bear being in them a second longer. He looks towards Even in slight alarm, trying not to get ahead of himself. “Did we…?”

“No, we did not.” Even says, as if he can read Isak’s mind. Even looks just as alarmed for a moment, but then settles once Isak sighs.

“Oh thank God.” Isak breathes out, letting his head fall forward in relief, and Even laughs nervously, clearly finding Isak’s reaction a little more alarming, as if the fact that they _didn’t_ drunkenly sleep together again meant Isak would _never_ want to do it again. He looks to Even, who’s still just as apprehensive about Isak’s reaction, and he quickly stutters out a response, “I mean, not _thank_ _God_ in that way, because I just don't remember doing it. And the… trail of... clothing?” He states the elephant in the room, pointing lamely at it, and Even’s laugh makes him feel like he’s floating. 

“That was all you, Isak. You started undressing the moment you stepped through the door. And like a gentleman, I put you to bed.” He smiles with charm, and _that_ explains why he woke up nude. _God_.

Isak doesn’t have a duvet to hide behind this time, so he covers his face with his hands and groans, nearly resorting to pulling his hoodie up over his face to hide his embarrassment. _I’m a mess, a full mess._ After a moment, he meets Even’s eyes again, peeking through his fingers shyly, just to see if Even is still looking at him. And he is, his attention is fully on Isak once again, and Isak is terrified of how much he wants to keep it that way. 

The coffee machine beeps, the brew ready for the taking. Neither move to make a cup, settled into a staring contest now. Isak drops his hands, and Even’s smile grows impossibly brighter. The waves crash harder in Isak’s stomach, and he lets them.

“Uh...why didn’t we?” Isak asks casually, trying not to allude to the fact that he wouldn’t have necessarily _minded_ having sex with Even again. Maybe sober next time, though. He sits down at the table, because his legs are feeling weak and he can’t handle the thought of their being a next time, a _sober_ next time. His head is still throbbing. 

“Call me old fashioned, but when someone is that drunk, I’m not going to have sex with them.” Even laughs, and Isak finds himself laughing too. Once again, it doesn’t feel weird, or like this should embarrass him as it did just a minute ago. It does anyways, but the tension, if there were any to begin with, lifts as Even pours two cups of coffee and brings one to Isak. It’s so domestic, Isak melts into the chair, taking the cup into his hands with a small _takk_. 

“That must’ve been…attractive.” Isak tries to laugh once Even is seated across from him, and instead gulps back the hot coffee, effectively choking on his pitiful laugh. He clears his throat, because the way Even is staring at him is making it close up a little. “Why did you stay?”

“You asked me to.” 

Even’s smile is threateningly happy and exposing all of him to Isak in such a confident way that it’s..._overwhelming_, to say the least. He wonders how someone could be so unapologetically _un_composed, as if being themselves is something to be happy about. And sure, maybe that thought is pathetic, but Isak prides himself in being protective of his thoughts, his heart, he doesn’t want someone to hurt him, or better yet, he doesn’t want to hurt someone else. 

He's seen the way love takes its toll on even the most confident of lovers, take Jonas and Eva for example, they couldn’t stand being engaged any longer and impulsively went to the court to sign the paper, no actual wedding ceremony involved -- and _now_ look what happened. Eva didn’t even tell her parents, and she was hurting because of the stress her love caused her. 

He’s tried to fit love into his life because it’s a part of his job in some ways. He has to write romantic music, music that _bleeds_ with passion and _aches_ to move mountains, and how can he possibly even convey such emotions if he’s never felt it himself before?

Maybe that’s why he was stringing Adam along for all those years, in the hopes that someday he’d feel that passionate intensity of _love_, and Adam in return was the one who kept Isak for convenience. He knew it, as much as Adam did, or anyone with fucking eyes, that they weren’t compatible, and hadn’t been for a long, long time. And every fight, it always ended up being Isak’s fault somehow.

Isak found silent comfort in that because it meant he could keep a safe distance, he could be what Adam wanted without ever having to give himself fully to him. 

He feels Even’s knee knock against his, and his thoughts come back into focus, like a camera lens zooming in on it’s shot, and Even’s eyes narrow in question. 

“I asked you to stay? I…I don’t remember.” Isak says, and Even hums. 

“From the moment I met you, it’s been an adventure.” Even says with his beautiful smile taking over, and confidence exudes from his words, his mouth, his eyes. Those fucking eyes. Isak is positive that he dreamed about them last night. He never wanted to wake up because of it. 

“Yes, I’m…I’m well, sorry about that. I am jet-lagged, and the holidays must be getting to me. Obviously still trying to go through the motions of my break up and… meeting _you_.” Isak stops, feeling too raw, and gulps. 

Even’s phone rings, and once again, it’s sitting face open, and Sophie’s name pops up like a torch in the night, both of their eyes shifting to look at it instead of one another. Isak’s stomach swoops as Even picks it up, answering it and shuffling out of the room with an apologetic smile towards Isak as he answers. 

“Halla Soph! Yes... _nei_… okay, we’ll see...” He moves to the living room, and he can hear Even laughing on the phone. His heart feels heavier than it ever has, and he takes small sips of his coffee to try and focus on that instead of this fucking terrible ache in his chest and the overloading of nauseated waves in his stomach. 

He’s enjoying having Even as a distraction, only because it helps to fill this stupid silence he thought he needed. It’s almost as if once Even is there, staring at him and hanging onto every word like they’ve got all the time in the world, nothing else really matters. Things don’t feel the same around Even, almost as if Isak doesn’t have to bear all his issues alone when he's in Even's presence.

Even returns a minute later, his phone in the pocket of the hoodie now, and begins to silently take food out of the fridge. Eggs, milk, but then he stops, standing staring into the fridge for a moment, hunched over as the cool air seeps into the kitchen. 

“Busy guy.” Isak laughs, and that prompts Even to turn to him, closing the fridge, looking more serious than he ever has with Isak, and Isak swallows his pride, trying not to look as scared as he is. He’s finding it harder to remain stone-cold composed around Even. He’s finding it harder to hold onto his sanity in front of him, as if his own mind is struggling to defend why he _shouldn’t_ be composed, why he _should_ just let it go. 

“I think we should go into town.” Even says suddenly. 

“Huh?” Isak makes a strangled sound, and Even begins to smile again at Isak’s reaction, returning to his usual self instead of his much more serious self. Isak doesn't know which one turns him on more. That thought alone makes him a little apprehensive, and all the more desperate to spend his day in Even’s presence. _What is happening to me. _

“You should shower, get dressed, and we’ll go for lunch. How does that sound? Plus, Sonja’s fridge is lacking much-needed amenities, so I’ll take you grocery shopping, too.” He says sweetly, and Isak doesn’t respond. How can he? How can Even just propose something like that? “I want to get to know you, Isak.”

“Why?” _Dangerous_, red lights are siring off in his brain and warning him. _Stop questioning, stop diving, stop feeling. _

“Because I’m running out of reasons as to why we shouldn’t.” He says, looking breathless for a moment. “What do you say?”

Isak can’t argue with that. 

Isak finds himself seated next to Even in his car an hour later, a fucking white Range Rover that Isak imagines instantly would be big enough for them to just get at it in the back seat. He takes a glance back there and figures the ceiling would be high enough to lift his legs. 

He focuses on looking outside at the rolling snowy hills of the countryside after _that_ thought comes around, fiddling nervously with his fingers and trying not to overthink everything. He ends up squinting out at the bright landscape, a scowl on his face as he overthinks, as usual. 

_Who’s Sophie? Why is she your world? Why do you want to get to know me? What were the reasons that stopped you before? What are my own reasons?_

He looks over to Even, just to spare a glance, and immediately regrets it as Even’s eyes find him and he gives him a smile, raising a hand to tune to a quieter music channel than whatever pop song was previously blaring, and the silence between them is consuming. Comfortable. Isak relaxes, only a little. 

He knows he could just simply _ask_ him, or maybe Sonja, but the fear of someone thinking he wants to get invested in Even and his life is overwhelming. The fact that Isak _wants_ to is even scarier. 

They go grocery shopping first in a small, rustic-looking shop that Isak is surprised has so much to offer. Even leads him through the aisles and picks out various ingredients that Isak has no intention of ever truly using, but Even just keeps smiling at him and talking to him about music so he doesn’t mind all too much. He’s not going to stop him, he’s so pretty when he speaks, and Isak enjoys the banter more than anything. 

They stand in an aisle choosing spices for almost fifteen minutes, arguing over what’s best on _cheese toasties_, of all things. It leaves him smiling and blushing nonetheless. It ended with Even finally giving in, and letting Isak purchase the cardamom. 

He can’t ignore all the looks they're getting, all the greetings Even has to go through before they’re finally settled back in the car, and Isak can’t help himself this time, speaking freely.

“So…You weren’t lying when you said everyone knows one another.” He chuckles, and Even looks sheepish. 

“Yeah, sorry. I probably should have prepared you for all the introductions you may get, I was kinda hoping it’d be quieter on a Sunday morning but.” He shrugs and turns the key in the ignition, turning up the heat and the music, as if the car _needs_ to get any hotter right now. Isak flushes. 

“Where are we going now?” Isak asks, curious. 

“Somewhere _much_ less crowded.” Even says, filling him with an eagerness to know more, but leaving him in misery at the mystery of it all. Maybe it’s not so miserable as it is exciting, and _Even_… gosh, Isak wants to let himself indulge. In the moments he does indulge in Even’s antics is when his chest stops hurting, when he stops feeling like he might burst at the seams on command. 

They end up at a small lodging cafe and as Even had promised, it’s nearly empty, but the fires are roaring and there's a commotion in the kitchen so he figures it’s not all bad, they’re not _completely_ alone. It's adorned with Christmas decorations, a white tree in the corner with fake presents beneath it, lights around each fireplace, all twinkling dreamily back at him. 

They sit across from each other at a small, two-seater table by the window, and Isak can’t decide which view is better. The fjords, the snowy hills, or Even, who’s staring down at the menu so intensely it looks like his head might explode with all the options presented to him. 

“What do you do?” Isak asks, and it sounds so out of place from their previous conversations. There are other pressing questions in Isak’s mind, but he doesn’t want to think about those, he just wants to know more about this man in front of him. _I’m running out of reasons why we shouldn’t -- so am I, Even. _

“Huh?”

“Job wise, I mean.” 

“Oh, I’m an art teacher at the high school.” He smiles, but it’s strained, and the way he runs his hands over his thighs, as if they’re clammy, makes Isak wonder if Even is just as nervous as he is. “What do you do?”

“I compose music for movie trailers.” 

“What!” Even gasps, “That’s amazing, much cooler than an art teacher.” 

“Not by far, it’s probably just as stressful as teaching a bunch of ignorant teens.”

“Hey, you were an ignorant teen once, too. I just hope my influence can help a bit, guide them along, you know?” Even laughs, and then ends on a sincere note, looking passionate and Isak wants to climb over the table and kiss him right then. He resists the urge, but once again, the urge _is_ there. He can’t deny it. 

“Yeah.” Isak laughs a little dryly. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“Not always…I like the routine though. It helps.” He shrugs suddenly, as if he’s stopping himself from venturing further.

“Helps?” Isak pries. 

“Helps to have a routine, you know? Something definite to always look forward to, that you can fall back on.”

“Oh, so you look forward to being ignored and stuffed in a cramped room with smelly teens?” Isak laughs, and Even chuckles breathlessly, eyes wide with an expression that can only be nerves. 

“I feel like I’m being interviewed right now.”

“You are.”

“And what position am I trying out for, exactly?” He asks, suddenly amused, no longer hesitant. Isak has been _waiting_ for this side to come back out of him. He bites his lip for a moment, eyes looking over Even’s soft, angelic features, and then lets out a shaky sigh. 

“Haven’t decided yet.” He says back, and looks away for a moment, and then once he meets Even’s eyes again he’s thrilled to find him still looking at Isak like he’s seriously the most interesting person on the face of the planet. Isak doubts it, but something in the way Even stares makes him hopeful. He starts rambling before he can stop himself.

“I'm sorry, I know I'm interrogating you a bit but…I just haven’t been on a…a ‘date’ in forever.” He brings up his fingers to emphasis the word, and Even looks at him in bewilderment. 

“Oh is that what this is? I thought it was a job interview.”

“Ha ha.” Isak responds sarcastically, rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop smiling. 

“Well, since we’ve already slept together, we can bend the first-date rules a bit, don’t you think?”

Isak flushes, just the thought of it makes him want to tear off Even’s clothing and ravish him right here, right on this table. Bend over and let Even do what he pleases, with his big hands and his wet lips. He's craving a repeat, and seeing as he was too out of it for them to do anything _last_ night, he’s silently hoping this might just end with them getting at it in the back of Even’s car. They could probably push the seats back, even _more_ legroom. 

“Why are you blushing?” Even asks, using an endearing tone that Isak, frankly, has never heard used towards himself. He thinks he could get used to it. It's dangerous how much he wants to get used to it. 

“I don’t know… you make me nervous.” He answers honestly. He’s been honest up until now, why not keep going? Isak feels like he’s rolling down one of the snowy hills and never wants to stop, even as the snow piles up around him, even as it suffocates him. “I want to try and…be myself with you, it’s hard, but I’m going to try.” He breathes out, and Even nods, a silent agreement between them, and he worries for a moment if Even will push for more details, but he doesn’t. 

Realistically, Isak knows if this goes South he can hop on a plane and be back home by tomorrow, so what does he have to lose besides another addition to the dull heartache that already consumes him? To his endless list of issues that if Even were to know about, would surely send him packing. If he were to show how broken he was on the outside, he knows Even would see that he’s irreversibly damaged on the inside, too. 

“So, you asked if this is what I always wanted?”

Isak nods, and the conversation flows steadily, blissfully, as they order their drinks and food and don’t hold back from sharing everything under the sun with one another. 

Even never mentions Sophie, Isak doesn't mention Adam. It’s freeing and Isak is letting himself roll. 

Until Isak suddenly gets _too_ into it, because he reveals something to Even that makes him shift, and Even’s smile falters, a look of disbelief taking over his features. 

“Wait, _what_? Did you just say you haven’t cried since you were 11?”

Isak’s eyes widen, and _fuck_. Now Even is going to see it. He’s going to see Isak's apprehensiveness, see the way he collects himself after every flirty comment, see how much he’s holding back and how high his walls are built up. _Is anyone ever going to be brave enough to love me? _

“Uh…yeah. I know it’s weird, but after my parents split, and my Dad moved away, I think I must’ve cried enough for a lifetime. So.” He shrugs, and Even sits in silent contemplation as he chews his sandwich, looking as though he understands. There’s no way he could, even if Isak _were_ to go in-depth right now, lay all his cards out on the table, air all his dirty laundry for Even, show him the pile of skeletons in his closet... He doesn’t, he composes himself, rightfully so. “I’ve tried before, I mean, after breaking it off with Adam, I thought I’d at least shed _one_ tear, at it’s not like I didn’t try I just…couldn’t. Can we talk about you some more?” He reaches for his water, wishing it was wine, and takes a sip. 

“Sure.” He laughs, and the tension lifts. Isak is grateful, even though he can see the gears grinding in Even’s mind, unanswered questions that will remain unanswered if Isak has any say in it. It’s not like he doesn’t have his own questions that Even refuses to acknowledge, so Isak thinks two can play at that game. 

“Tell me something.” Isak says.

“I cry all the time.” Even responds, and then Isak laughs, and Even seems to ease because of it.

“You do not.”

“I do, though! I cry more than anyone you’ve _ever_ met. I don’t just cry, I sob, I weep.” He continues, only because Isak is laughing so hard and every word keeps fuelling another fit of laughter. “A good book, movie, the opera — Isak, it borderlines pathetic how much I cry. People always make fun of how I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I can’t help it.”

“It’s admirable.” Isak grins, and Even grins back just as furiously, just as passionate as the rest of him. He’s radiant with his passions, and Isak... wants to be one of them. He suddenly burns with a desire to be _something_ Even is passionate about, to be worthy of such fierce and indistinguishable care. 

“I’ve been wondering something,” Isak says, and Even tilts his head in silent question, picking up his water to drink. “Um...You and Sonja...did you ever, like...date?”

Even almost spits out his water. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.” He says, pressing his napkin to his face, because he did spit out his water, only a little. It was cute. 

“Sorry you don’t have to--”

“No, no, it’s fine. Sonja and I have been best friends since we were kids, and we did date, but only for a month or so when we were teenagers.”

“A month? It didn’t work out?”

“No, actually. She uh…” Even contemplates, chewing on his lip for a moment. “We dated for a month, and she ended it because, well--” He pauses again, and Isak continues to wait. “She’s gay, Isak.” 

“Oh.” Isak most definitely was not expecting that, but an odd sense of relief flows over him, and Even seems to notice it, because he instantly has that amused smirk on his face again, making Isak flush. 

“Yeah.” Even says, his voice lilted with charm. 

“So you helped her in deciding that, I guess?”

“In a way.” He nods, and then lets out a sigh. “But, I still loved her, and she loved me too, and we were better off as friends, _obviously_... Now I’m just her friend who occasionally gets so drunk he needs to sleep it off on her couch.” He laughs freely, and Isak does too. 

Before Isak knows it, Even has driven him back to Sonja’s cottage, and now they’re both sitting in the car, the silence between them for the past two minutes feels like hours. Isak doesn’t want to get out yet, and Even makes no move to push him out, instead just looking at Isak curiously. 

“This was nice.” Isak tries, and Even hums. “You don’t have to..walk me in or anything. I mean, it's freezing—“

“You can just say you don’t want me to come in. I won’t be upset.”

“It’s not that!” Isak says quickly, a little too quickly for his own liking, effectively cutting off Even who looks towards him with an amused _oh!_. He composes himself and starts again. “I'm tired, I’m going to just… go to sleep.” 

“I’ll pretend I believe you.” He chuckles, but it’s not condescending and it doesn't make Isak’s throat close up, instead, it does the opposite. It makes him melt into his seat, makes him want to make a home here, right in the passenger seat of Even’s ridiculous Range Rover. Isak shakes his head at the thought. 

“Even I…I live in L.A., my whole life is there, and your whole life is here. This was really nice but…I can’t…It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can_ do complicated_ right now.” The words feel more painful to say out loud, at the realization that this vacation is going to come to a close, and he’ll have to return to reality soon. It makes his mouth dry and his stomach nauseous once again. 

_You do this_, Adam’s voice says in his head, and he shudders. _You always do this._

This slice of Heaven is enticing, but Isak is treading on dangerous waters, and he is trying to take the necessary steps to back out of it as gracefully as he can, to try and save Even’s feelings more than his own. Even is nice, maybe too good to be true, and Isak doesn't think he can roll anymore. 

Even is quiet, and then he leans forward, bringing a hand to grab at the back of Isak's neck in an all too familiar fashion as he brings their lips together, squeezing just right, and kissing him for the first time that day. Isak wonders why they haven’t been kissing _all_ day. 

It’s a quick kiss, just chaste enough, and Isak wants more. So he dives back in. He rolls down the metaphorical hill and can feel himself spiralling out of control as Even’s tongue grazes his lip and he opens up for him quickly and with ease, completely delirious under his touch. He’s rendered useless. All shreds of his composure are _lost_ to him now. 

“And that doesn't make it complicated?” Even asks, panting into Isak’s mouth the second they pull away. Everything feels nonexistent at this moment, nothing exists outside of the Range Rover’s cabin, nothing except for Even and Isak. Isak and Even. He likes the way their names sound together. 

“Sex makes everything complicated.” Isak responds, cool, calculated, but he doesn’t feel that way. And the way his tone wavers makes Even detect it. 

Even moves away and Isak misses the feeling of his hands on him instantly. 

“We’re back to being awkward with each other. Aren’t we?” 

“Even...” Isak shakes his head, tries to calm his beating heart. “A long-distance relationship would just… it’d be really hard. On both of us. And — even though I do find you incredibly attractive, and sexy, I just…” 

“It’s okay, Isak. Although, calling me incredibly attractive and sexy doesn’t help your case.” He laughs brightly albeit a little bitterly, clearly accepting the compliment and giving Isak an out. Isak reaches for the door handle, one hand on the bag of groceries at his feet. 

“Do I have your number?” Isak asks just before he pulls the door open, and Even shrugs, a look of something resembling longing taking over his soft expression. 

“I should be in the phone book.” He says, and Isak nods curtly. “I have work tomorrow, so I won’t be drunkenly barging in through your door tonight.” Even jokes. _I wish you would._

And Isak wants to say more, but he doesn’t, he gets out and closes the car door, and makes a small show of shivering from the cold. Even laughs, but he can’t hear it through the closed door and it makes Isak angry for putting this barrier between them. He rushes inside the house before he makes an irrational decision, like jumping through the window and taking Even apart in the back seat like he was dreaming about doing during lunch. 

He hops into the shower after filling Freya’s bowl with fresh water and food, and stands under the heat for as long as he can bear, letting the steam collect, and all the possible surfaces fog up. He doesn’t want to even look at himself in the mirror once he steps out, he’s sure he looks like the personification of pathetic. 

_“Welcome back, Isak Valtersen!”_ The announcer's voice shouts in his head, and Isak groans as he rests his head on the cool tile walls in defeat, letting it go. It almost feels cruel to let himself succumb to this, but after his disastrous end to his amazing morning and afternoon with Even, he wants to let himself hear whatever his subconscious belittles him for. 

_“He’s pushed every guy away, every time. It's not _will_ he ever change, but does he _want_ to?” _

______________________

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Finally got a hold of Even. Apparently he’s been out with you all day? I hope he wasn’t annoying. He can get carried away easily, but he’s really the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

No, he was delightful. 

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Haha, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that from you. 

Look Isak, I know you took this trip to get away from a bad break up, and unfortunately Claire ended up spilling to me everything that happened. So, I understand if you want to come home early, we can cut the trip short. 

I don’t want to leave you in a vulnerable position if that’s what you’re feeling. 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

No, I’m okay. This is good for me, to be away from home. I think I’ll be fine. Besides, Even hasn’t been bad company, it’s nice to talk to someone about things other than work. I haven’t thought about Adam at all..so  
And Freya is really cuddly with me now :)

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Okay :)   
Whatever you say, isakyaki! Give her a kiss from me!   
I have to sign off unfortunately, I’m going to dinner with Arthur, and Claire might come too! Probably the best double date I’ll ever be on, haha 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

I’ll let that go for now, Lol.   
Enjoy :) 

______________________

“God,” Isak groans out loud, standing in the kitchen as he finishes unpacking all of the groceries, a microwaved meal currently warming up for him, the buzzing sound from it filling his ears and making him all the more angrier, all the more annoyed at himself. 

“I’m _such_ an _asshole_.” He says with conviction, and looks to Freya, perched on the counter, who barely spares him anything less than a judgemental gaze. He deserves it. Her stare almost reminds him of the way Jonas looks at him once Isak is finished telling him how badly he’s fucked something up. And now, he feels like he’s fucked up even more. “Can’t_ do complicated?_ Who says that?” _A_ _coward_, he thinks, and from the look Freya gives him, he wonders if she sees it too. 

His phone pings, and he only spares the incoming texts with a grimace. 

______________________

**DONT TEXT**

_I know you’re ignoring me_   
_But I want to see you when you get back_   
_I miss you_   
_Can’t stop thinking about you_

______________________

_Funny, because I’ve barely thought about you,_ Isak thinks, and deletes the messages from his history. 

He eats slowly, the food tasting like freezer-burnt mush but he eats it anyways, and looks through Sonja’s phone book for Even’s number. Instead, he finds an address, and before he can think about it he’s dressed and grabbing a bottle of wine as he makes his way out. He clutches to it, wonders if he should take a swig on the way but he holds back. 

The cab parks him outside of a small, brown-bricked home, lights and Christmas decorations adorn the outside, smoke coming from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, it looks exactly like Isak pictured Even’s house would be. There’s a wreath on his door, too, and from the front window, a Christmas tree, with hundreds of colourful, bright lights. 

He stops once his feet carry him to the door, and knocks. 

Then he knocks again, and rings the bell for good measure. The time he stands there waiting in the cold feels like forever. 

There’s a sound of running footsteps, and then the door swings open, revealing a dishevelled looking Even. His hair is mussed in different directions, his shirt untucked from his pants, and he’s breathing heavy. The colour drains from his face at the sight of Isak before him, like he’s seeing a ghost, and Isak tries not to feel like he wishes he really _was_ a ghost right now, that way he could disappear from this situation entirely. 

“Surprise!” Isak says, and Even’s eyes widen further, and he blinks a few times in succession. 

“Surprise… indeed.” Even says, and he chuckles nervously, easing the door closed a little more as if he’s ready to close it on Isak’s face any second now. 

“So, I was home, doing nothing, and thinking of you when I thought to myself, a little complicated never hurt anybody, right?” He says, grinning despite his brain telling him to run. He’s trying, to say the least, to not look at the apparent fact that Even is busy - or, better yet, _was_ busy with someone else before Isak showed up. 

Maybe he should've just called. He can sense Even getting increasingly uncomfortable, as he shifts nervously, trying to give Isak the best smile he can muster. He almost looks pained, as if Isak’s presence is putting a serious damper on his evening.

“You’re not alone, are you?” Isak regrets the question but he asks it nonetheless, and he winces before Even has a chance to respond. 

“I’m not, actually.” Even’s voice sounds regretful as he looks at Isak, his gaze intense, indecisive. Isak nods. He gets the picture. Even doesn’t have to say anything else on the matter. 

“Ah, that’s fine. It was…stupid of me to assume I’ll uh— I’ll go.” 

Before Isak can back away, Even opens the door, and Isak’s gaze drifts to someone standing behind him. It’s not what he expects in the slightest. 

She’s small, looks to be around five years old at most, with long brown braids and a tiara perched on her head, looking towards Even angrily with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re late for tea.” She says, and Isak wonders how someone so little could produce such anger. He almost laughs, but is still too shocked to do anything but stand there.

“Isak, this is Sophie.” He gestures for Isak to step in, and suddenly, it all clicks into place. 

Why Even had been so apprehensive about mentioning her, why he looked so scared every time she called. Even gives Isak a look, one that reads _we’ll talk later, be cool,_ and so Isak tries to compose himself. He smiles, tries to tell Even with as few words as possible_ I’ll be cool, watch me_. “Sophie, this is Isak, a friend of mine.” He introduces them, and Sophie’s expression changes from anger to delight. 

She doesn’t look like Even, she doesn’t have his eyes or his hair, he wonders if the kid is even his. 

“Hello, Isak! Would you like some tea?” She asks and then points toward Even, a little scowl growing on her face with malicious intent, “You too, mister.”

“I’d love some tea, Sophie.” Isak says, shoving the bottle of red into Even’s arms who just laughs at the display, quickly excusing himself to go put it in the kitchen, and failing to wink towards Isak. He blushes regardless. 

There’s the huge Christmas tree in the living room, which looks even more colourful up close. Two stockings hung by the fireplace, books and clutter on every surface, a lot of them toys and stuffed animals, but amongst the mess, there are various stacks of paperwork, some pens placed delicately on top. 

Signs of family and life and _love_ ooze out of every inch of the place. Isak can’t help but want to stay forever. He notices a piano tucked in the corner, and aches to get his hands on it, just the sight of it excites him. But instead, his jacket is being tugged at by Sophie, who then holds her hand out for him with a big grin on her face. 

He follows Sophie, who after he takes her hand, leads him upstairs with Even in tow. He soon finds himself seated under a well put-together blanket fort, with fairy lights and hanging cut-out snowflakes on the inside, looking like they were cut out and placed with care. If there were a track to be composed, playing in the background while sitting there, it would sound like twinkling stars. 

Sophie tells him Even built this fort this evening with her, and Even looks at him sheepishly, as if that fact isn’t the cutest, most endearing thing he’s ever heard. 

And now, it’s Sophie’s favourite place in the world. It just might be Isak’s, too. 

She demands he put on a tiara, because this is _royal_ tea time, and he couldn't do anything but oblige. Even looks smitten when Isak puts the tiara on, and flutters his lashes bashfully towards him, playing the part. It must be a sight, because Sophie suddenly goes _ooh_. 

“Are you a Prince, Isak?” Sophie asks, lifting her teacup and sticking out her pinkie finger. 

“I am.” He nods with a firm reply, eyes flitting towards Even who looks almost painful with how wide his smile is. Oh, and it is painful, how light Isak’s heart feels. It’s never felt this weightless before. But then again, he looks towards Sophie, he looks between her and Even, and can’t help but wonder. Whose child is this? Even said he wasn’t married. What if he is? 

“Good, I’m the Queen.” 

“And what am I, Soph?” Even asks, nudging her a little, and she just rolls her eyes before looking back to Isak. She’s so full of attitude and energy, Isak is trying so hard to not fall back with laughter after every small interaction. He mostly does it because he doesn’t want to fall back and accidentally pull apart the fort with him. Even is excitedly awaiting her answer, looking towards Isak like_ you're gonna wanna hear this._

She leans over towards Isak and cups her hand over her mouth, as if Even won’t be able to hear her if he can’t see her speaking. Isak lends her his ear, letting out a gasp as she tells it to him like a secret. 

“He’s the Royal Jester.” She says, and then moves away, pretends to sip her tea like they were never talking at all. 

And Isak can’t help but laugh now, and Even joins him. 

They end up in the living room a few minutes later, Sophie asking for hot chocolate and marshmallows because she’s full of the fake tea now, but Even only gives her three little ones, because the sugar will keep her up if he doesn’t. 

Isak stands with him in the kitchen as the milk heats up on the stove, and Even places three cups on the counter like ducks in a row. Then, it gets almost too quiet between them, the elephant in the room, the question Isak wants to ask, is too big to avoid this time around. 

“She isn’t mine.” Even whispers, and looks towards Isak. He’s not smiling anymore, he looks serious again, like he’s searching for a reason to not tell him, and Isak stiffens. “She isn’t mine, but I take care of her like she is. Her parents… My friend, Mikael, and his wife, they were my _best_ friends. They were the ones who everyone wanted to be around, they fit so well together and always made everyone happy. When they got pregnant it was like a town celebration, and when…” Even stops, the silence deafening, the rest of the words falling on his tongue, almost as if when spoken, they just bring up the memories again, leaving him speechless.

Isak steps forward and places a tentative hand on the small of his back, and begins to move in small, soothing circles. Even deflates, letting out a shaky sigh. He barely looks at Isak as he speaks, and Isak can understand why. 

“They got into an accident. And Sophie was left to me. I was devastated, she was barely a year old when it happened, but the older she grows, the more I see Mikael in her. The more I see Ingrid. And I can't help but be utterly grateful for her. She makes me want to be good for her. She’s everything. She keeps me sane.” His eyes are watery with tears that threaten to spill and Isak goes on his toes to wrap both arms around his neck and hug him tight, hug him close as quickly as he can manage, to try and alleviate just a shred of the apparent weight that holds constantly onto Even. Even’s arms wrap around his middle, and his face stays hidden in the crook of Isak’s neck until they both hear sizzling, and pull apart. 

Thankfully by the time they do pull apart, Even looks more sombre now, no longer on the verge of tears. His eyes are more striking all of a sudden as if Isak can now see the years of wear the man lives with, the constant fears, loneliness, how much _he_ suffocates, too. 

They’re so bright despite it all, they still make Isak’s heart skip. 

_You’re perfect to me,_ Isak thinks. 

Isak is quiet as he watches Even stir in the cocoa powder and evenly pour the milk into the three cups, and Even spares him a small, curious glance, a hint of a smile reappearing on his features as he meticulously places three mini marshmallows in each cup. 

He stops stirring for a long moment, staring at Isak who in turn just stares back blankly, then just shakes his head with a small chuckle and resumes making the drinks. 

Isak realizes he hasn’t said a word just yet, and so with courage, he says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“You once said I was strong.” Isak whispers, and Even stops stirring, listening. “But that’s you. You… you’re incredible, Even.” 

The moment is interrupted as they hear Sophie shout from the other room for them to hurry it up, and Isak takes his cup gingerly as Even grabs the other two and leads them back to the living room, the conversation being held off until a later time. 

Isak watches the night unfold pleasantly, as Sophie finishes her hot chocolate in record time, falls asleep on Even halfway through the Disney movie she chose to watch, tiredly gets dressed in her PJ’s and angrily brushes her teeth. Even re-did her braids, and that alone was something Isak never knew his heart needed. Even dotes on her so much that it almost makes Isak’s head spin with how sweet it is. How sweet _Even_ is. 

“Is Isak going to sleep over?” Sophie asks, a hopeful look on her face after Isak had followed them upstairs to put her to bed, but he stands in the doorway. 

“Maybe another time.” Even says and kisses her forehead sweetly before he tucks her tight into the bed and shuts the light, leaving the door slightly ajar.

They stand in the hallway for a few seconds, just looking at one another silently, and then Even takes his hand, leading him down the hall. It’s only until the door closes behind them that he realizes Even has brought Isak to his room. 

It’s much more modern in his room than he thought it would be, almost like a city apartment, or a college dorm, with a futon and leather sofa, a grey quilt on the bed. The walls are cluttered with colourful posters, a guitar hangs on one side, and multiple clips of cut-out newspapers and doodles taped to the closet. He almost goes over to look at them, admire them, soak up as much of Even as he possibly can. In the corner lies a stack of forgotten canvases against the wall, messy paint supplies on his desk. 

Even paces, then stops, and sits on the bed with a heavy sigh as Isak stays guarded by the door, composed, waiting to hear what Even wants to say. 

“This just got more complicated.” Even breathes and then laughs, almost sounding forced, like he’s trying to make light of the situation. Isak steps towards him because it’s too hard to be this _far_ from him, and steps into the space between his legs, placing his hands on his shoulders, and he’s no longer composed once Even meets his eyes. 

All _thoughts_ of being composed fly out the window and Isak bids them a happy farewell if it means he can just live in this moment, in this blissful state with Even. 

Even looks up at him in awe, with hope, with passion, and blatant insecurity. Isak brushes his fingers across his cheeks, then kisses him for a long, long minute, before resting his forehead against Evens, feeling his laboured breath ghost across his lips so delicately. He waits until Even seems less terrified before he speaks. 

“I don't know why you didn’t tell me about her.”

“I _was_ going to, at lunch, I was.” He pauses, “But…I don’t know why I didn’t. She goes to her grandparents on the weekends, and it’s the only time I really let myself loose,” He sucks in a breath, and Isak waits. “So, for a moment, I wanted to live in this other life where I didn’t have a child, but I do. It was stupid of me, I’m sorry.” He takes a heaving, shaking breath, and Isak shakes his head as much as he can to silently convey that he doesn’t need to apologize. 

“Don’t apologize,” Isak says his thoughts instead, moving to sit beside him, resting a hand behind him to lean against, the other on Even’s thigh. For some reason, he feels the need to make sure he’s touching him at all times, as if he needs a constant tether or reminder that he's really here right now. That _Even_ is as real as they come. “I get why you didn't tell me.”

“I didn’t want to introduce her to someone I’ll never see again.” Even bleeds the words out so deliberately, with a fire that ignites Isak with want. 

He feels a wave of guilt rush over him then, he should’ve called. He should’ve told Even he wanted to come over, and he would’ve taken the rejection. Isak forced himself into Even’s life, the one who said he couldn’t _do complicated_, made it ten times worse for both parties. Isak groans, because of _course_ he did, this is _totally_ his fault. Even had every right to keep her a secret, it’s not like Isak is going to be a part of his life all of a sudden, not realistically. 

“This is way past complicated.” Isak whispers, but his eyes are glued to Even’s lips, the feeling of his hand on his hip, and he thinks he might just enjoy it too much to be sane. 

“There’s something else.” Even whispers, and he places a hand on Isak’s jaw, lifting his chin to meet his eyes, almost as if the next thing he says is going to have a heavier hold to them. He clears his throat, and then with a certain detachment to his tone that Isak’s never heard him take before, he speaks. “I’m bipolar.” He exhales softly, and lets the air hang, the words sink, his eyes wide and searching. Isak doesn't know what he could possibly be searching for. 

“Okay.”

“I…I take medications, I see a therapist, I keep on a routine because it’s good for me, and I never stray from it. Ever.” He runs his thumb across Isak’s cheek, across his bottom lip and back again. The detachment falls away, and instead, it breeds a new passion, one that Isak can see firing behind his eyes. “You’re the first thing that’s ever made me question it and…Isak. I’m really overwhelmed sitting this close to you, because all I want to do is kiss you, and I don’t know how much more complicated to make this.” 

When Even finishes, they’re now sitting impossibly closer, their lips itching to be pressed together, and Isak takes a small breath. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“What?”

“Complicated. Let’s just take it… take it day by day, yeah? We’re not committed to anything right now, and I’m not gonna go running and screaming because you have a child, or because you’re bipolar.”

“Really?” He asks, backing away only a little, trying to gauge more of Isak's expression, as if his words of honesty that came to him so easily weren’t enough. And Even really looks as if he wasn't expecting that. Isak wants to show him how committed he is to this. Isak has been rolling down this hill now for _far_ too long to just get up and brush off the snow. And yet, it doesn’t feel suffocating. He wants to keep going. 

“Really, Even. I only have a week and a bit left, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than in the moments I’ve spent with you. As long as you won’t go running and screaming because of something I—”

“No, Isak. You’re perfect.” 

Even meets him halfway as Isak presses forward to kiss him. And it’s gentle, at first, but once Isak regains some sense of where he is, who is kissing him, he reaches up to cup Even’s cheeks and pulls him deeper into him.

“I don’t think I should stay over.” Isak whispers after a few minutes of kissing, just lips on lips and the sweetest, gentlest touches he’s ever received. 

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah.” 

Then they’re kissing again, and this time it’s a little harder to ignore their growing pains, as Even’s tongue slides between his lips and Isak welcomes it with an open mouth, always willing to savour the taste of Even. It’s only a minute, at most, but pulling away is worse than anything. It feels like coming up for air after sinking to the bottom of a pool, but the _ache_ to breathe is still there, the _ache_ to _sink_ _again_ is too tempting. 

Isak retreats with a heavy heart, because Even has work tomorrow, and a child to get to school. 

“Walk me out?” He breathes out against his lips, clutching at the collar of Even’s shirt that borderlines desperation and pure madness. Even nods after a moment, swallowing thickly before they detach themselves from one another, both of them looking oddly regretful for it. 

They’re quiet as they walk down the hall, down the stairs and to the front door. 

Isak puts on his boots and coat, his scarf, then looks to Even, who stands by the stairs with a pout, seemingly forlorn about Isak’s departure. Isak knows he should leave, he needs to respect _some_ kind of boundary, no matter how hard he wants to jump his bones right now. 

“You don’t have a hat?” Even asks, and then pulls one off the rack and quickly begins dressing it over Isak’s head before he can protest. “There.” He smiles, and cups Isak’s cheeks for a moment, admiring him, before he lets his hand drop to his side. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” Isak asks, too struck by Even’s actions to even comment on it. He just accepts that it happened, accepts the butterflies in his stomach because of it. He places a hand on the doorknob and Even nods. 

Then he steps closer to Isak, places his big hands on his cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss. A _goodbye_ kiss, a _see you soon_ kiss. A kiss that screams _don’t forget about me in the morning, because I’ll still be thinking of you. _

It makes his toes curl and he almost drops to his knees right there. At least after they pull apart this time, as he gets in a cab to return to Sonja’s cottage, he feels like he’s breathing again. 

The next day is uneventful, and Isak realizes it’s because there’s no Even there to make him breakfast, and he sadly pours out the old coffee, cleaning out the pot to make a fresh brew. Freya watches him from her spot on the counter, and for a moment, the two just look at one another, a silent staring contest, and honestly, it’s making Isak sweat a little. 

“Don’t judge me, Freya.” He jokes, but then he jumps half a foot in the air as his phone rings, and if Freya could, she’d probably laugh at how skittish he is. She judges him relentlessly. He picks it up, sees it’s an unknown number and leaves it be. He makes his coffee and picks up a random magazine from the coffee table once he’s finally settled. 

Half the morning goes by, and Isak wants to bang his head against the wall in boredom. He sifts through the movies, but none of them are catching his eye. He thinks about maybe baking something, but takes _one_ look at the old stove and realizes he’d rather not burn down the cottage if he can help it. He tries to take a nap, but he’s too restless, he can’t stop thinking about how _bored_ he is, and how much _better_ his day could be if Even were here. The thought plagues him, so he quickly gets up to shower. 

It’s past two when his phone rings again, the same number from before, and he regretfully answers it, sighing into the microphone before he speaks. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s Sonja.” Her voice is sweet, and Isak realizes it’s the first time they’ve ever talked over the phone. 

“Oh, hey, how’s it going?” He asks, not mentioning the fact that he ignored her call before. He sits back on the couch, tucks his feet under him and pats his lap a few times towards Freya, who stares at him blankly. 

“Good, how are you? Oh, wait, Even’s calling. Hold on.” 

He waits on hold for a minute before Sonja comes back, and it's the longest minute of his life. 

“Even asked me to say _hello_?” She laughs, sounding confused, and Isak finds himself smiling down at Freya, his cheeks pained from it. 

“Tell him I say hi?” Isak asks quickly, his voice rising an octave and he flushes at the sound. Freya hops into his lap then, and he cuddles her quickly. 

“Okay…”

She’s gone again, briefly, and then returns.

“He _now_ wants to know how you are?” She laughs, as if that’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. Isak melts, positively _melts_, because now he’s just thinking about Even, and he wonders if he’s smiling while on hold with Sonja too. 

“Tell him I’m good, just chilling, as usual, Freya is cuddling me now. Ask him how he is from me?” He asks. 

Sonja is quiet as she hums on the other line. Then, she gasps, clears her throat, and says, “Hold on a minute, will you?” 

He hears the familiar click of her putting him on hold, but it seems as though she’s pressed the wrong button because suddenly, she’s shouting through the phone and Isak pulls it away from his ear. 

“I can’t believe you slept with the man staying at my house!” She shouts, and Isak flushes.

“He told you that!?” He responds, exasperated, and Sonja audibly gasps again.

“Oh my god, Isak, _no_, I’m so sorry. Will you please hold on?” She sounds frantic now, and he hears her click desperately on the phone. But yet, her voice comes through as clear as day, and Isak stills. 

“What the hell is wrong with you! Isak has been there for _three_ days, and you slept with him!? He’s _so_ fragile Even! The one thing,_ one thing,_ he asked of me was to promise him that there were _no_ men around to break his heart! And I promised him he’d be fine! Have you no sense!?”

The air hangs, and he can hear Sonja shifting around, catching her breath. 

“Um…Sonja? It’s still me.” He whispers, sounding completely unlike himself. He feels cold to the bone, absolutely frozen in horror. Freya keeps nudging him to continue petting, but he’s too frazzled to do that just yet. 

“Isak...” Sonja sighs, sounding pained. “I’m so sorry. I am, truly. I— I didn’t think. Just hold on.”

She clicks a few times, and then she really puts him on hold. He can only _imagine_ what she’s saying to Even now, cussing him out for sleeping with Isak, as if it’s his fault. 

Though Isak is the one who came onto him the night Even arrived, proposing the sex, Even had proposed the lunch the following morning, so he figures they were even now. Complicated, but even. He wanted it to be easy, now, take it day by day and just enjoy it while it lasts. Even if that means he can only get Even on the weekends, if he’s too busy with school or Sophie — they haven't really discussed it yet, and Isak was anxious to. He couldn’t help but want to know when he’d get Even alone next. 

This is the first interaction he’s had with Even all day, and yet, despite being on opposite ends of the same phone call, almost feeling miles apart, it fills his body with warmth, and for the first time all day he’s genuinely happy. 

“Isak, you still there?” Her voice cuts through his thoughts, and he nods. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out slowly, trying to still his nerves as he brushes over Freya’s ears. 

“Well, Even said he’s just getting home from school now, he’s got to pick up Sophie in an hour from daycare, and he wanted to say hello again. I’m so sorry about what I said before, I obviously…did _not_ realize I was speaking to you.” She laughs, and Isak winces. 

“It’s fine.”

“No, its not, I'm sorry. And I apologize for Even, I really hope he hasn't done anything stupid. He really is a great guy, on every level. He’s phenomenal with Sophie but he…he has had a rough time. Especially these past few years, he’s only _just_ fallen into a good routine, do you understand?”

“I do.” Isak sighs, and Sonja does too. It’s quiet for a few moments, then Isak, with a burning passion, asks the one question on his mind, because there’s nobody around to witness his lack of composure except for himself. And in regards to Even, Isak is quickly understanding that he can’t hold back around him.

“Am I bad for him?” He asks, chewing on his lip, and Sonja doesn’t miss a beat. 

“From the way he sounded talking about you just now? Isak…I think you’re the best.” She sighs, and then after some more shifting on her side, “I have to go. Arthur is coming over for our daily swim. Claire might join us today.”

“I'm relieved that you've got a friend there, and I hope they’re both being good to you.”

“Of course! Ok, I really gotta go, but we’ll chat soon. I’ll email you. Take care.” She hangs up, and Isak is left in silent solitude.

He doesn’t like the silence. It just reminds him that he’s lonely. 

So he gets up, and finds the closest cafe, brings his laptop and headphones, and even though he promised himself and Jonas he wouldn’t work, he’s desperate to right now. He needs to focus on something that isn’t Even and that in itself is a triumphant mistake.

Just as he settles, with a sweet-smelling coffee next to him, he looks outside and spots Sophie, walking with Even in tow. He makes the acute observation that she’s almost as tall as one of his legs. The door jingles as they step in, and Sophie notices him first, all bundled up in purple and orange knitted things, red-cheeked, and she smiles brightly, running over to him. Even looks terrified for a moment before his eyes land on Isak as well, just as Isak scoops Sophie into his open arms. 

“Hey.” Even says, a kind smile on his face, and Sophie looks as though she’s getting comfortable sitting on his lap. Isak takes off his headphones, leaving them around his neck, and smiles sheepishly up at him.

“Hey.” Isak’s heart hammers in his chest just at the sight of him, towering over him so beautifully. 

“We come here on Mondays for cookies.” Sophie states, “What are you doing here?”

“Working.” Isak responds, pointing to his laptop, open to his latest project. Jonas will definitely get mad at him for doing work, but he knows Jonas is probably doing the same, holed up in London with Eva’s family. He stores a small reminder at the back of his mind to call him later, get an update on _that_ whole situation. 

“What kind of work?” She asks. 

“Prince work.” He jokes, and she lights up with another blinding smile, as does Even, who chuckles at the sentiment. “Very busy, very royal, Princely duties.” He continues on seriously, and it forces a giggle out of Sophie who takes off her gloves and places her freezing little hands on Isak’s cheeks, effectively squishing them.

“You are so funny, Prince Isak.”

“And you are too touchy, Queen Soph.” Even says as he dives in to pluck Sophie from Isak’s arms and holds her in his own. She just rolls her eyes and lets him take her, then looks indifferent once he places her down. Isak tries not to double over in a flurry of emotions as he watches the display, how easy Even is with her, how natural he seems to be at this. It’s clear, as bright as a cloudless, sunny day, how much he loves her, and she loves him too.

“Can Isak join us for cookies?” She asks, looking between them. 

“I’m sure he’s busy, with his Prince work, and all.” Even tries, but then looks to Isak for an answer, and Isak realizes he’s been caught staring at him with a look that could’ve only been awe. He blushes, and nods, closing his laptop and taking off his headphones. 

“Never too busy to have cookies with two of my favourite people.” He says, because he wants to, because it’s true, even if it _has_ only been _three_ days. Sophie beams. Even looks stunned for a moment, then soft, and sweet. Isak smiles, putting away his things and joining them at a bigger table as Even goes to order their food and two drinks for him and Sophie. 

And just like that, Isak’s day has gotten a hell of a lot better. Even sits beside him, knocks their knees together bashfully, revels in the way Isak blushes, and he does it so freely around Even, so easily and fast, that he’s beginning to get used to it. Used to the fact that Even is always going to make him blush, whether it be with words or his touch, or just a simple look. 

Even drives him home afterwards, and walks Isak right up to the door while Sophie sleeps in the back seat. She passed out almost as soon as Even buckled her in. _Its the sugar,_ Even had mouthed to him while scrunching his nose up in amusement. 

“So…” Isak hops in place for a moment on the balls of his feet, feeling anxious, desperate to place his hands on Even now that they’re alone. He’d been desperate to do it since he waltzed into the cafe looking like a James Dean and Patrick Swayze daydream, and now, standing a step lower on the porch, looking up at Isak, he just looks too inviting to possibly hold back any longer. Before he can act on it, Even speaks. 

“Want to come over for dinner tomorrow? Unless you’ve already made other plans.”

“Yes, of course I want to come over for dinner. I would ask you to stay but...” He nods towards the car, and Even grins, a little tight, almost like he’s painfully aware of it all, too. 

“Another time.” He shrugs, and Isak is about to turn when Even reaches forward, reaching for his wrist, pulling him in and Isak melts into him completely, their lips melding into one. He still tastes like chocolate and everything divine. Isak thinks he’ll get used to blushing, but he’ll _never_ get used to the way Even kisses him. With need, with want, with certainty. Like Isak is worth a kiss that means something, like every time their lips meet, there's more to be said. 

He waves at him as the car drives off, and then falls against the door once he’s inside, clutching at his chest with a smile on his face, and he brings a few fingers to his lips, still feeling Even’s touch. He feels like a love-sick teenager. _Love-sick, who am I? _

Freya rounds the corner and meows.

“Don’t start with me.” He chuckles, shrugging off his jacket. 

He takes a bubble bath, finding Sonja’s supplies and lets himself indulge in all of the flowery scents. He scrubs his hair and then does a face mask, reads one of Sonja’s romance novels because he feels like it and he hasn’t read a romance novel since high school. 

(He’s seen what Eva’s “me” days look like before, and he finds he actually might join her next time._ Face masks, bubble baths, and romance, Isak._)

This book had a sticky note on it too: 

**I'll Give You the Sun - Jandy Nelson**   
_Isak! This book is revolutionary - I hope you think so, too. _

Adam doesn’t cross his mind once all day. 

He calls Even after waiting around for a bit longer, waits as the phone rings, and is relieved when he hears his voice on the other side, and that this phone call didn’t end in disappointment as he expected it to. 

“Halla?” So simple, his voice is deep and enchanting, always makes Isak smile. 

“Hei.” Isak says, sounding way too excited. 

“_Isak_, hey, I was actually just about to call you.” He breathes out a laugh, and Isak blushes from the idea of Even recognizing him so easily just from his voice, now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I know you asked me over for dinner tomorrow, but are you free tonight? After dinner, I mean, obviously, since it’s already getting a little late. And I know we saw each other earlier, but… Wait, unless you’re not free? Then that’s fine, too, I mean—“

“Isak, relax.” He laughs, and Isak flushes, and waits. “Actually, I’m dropping Sophie off at a friends’ soon, that’s why _I_ was going to call, you beat me to it. Come over?” 

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

Even looks radiant in the moonlight. Isak was dumb to think he wouldn’t look radiant in any setting, ever. 

He’s shovelling the front path to clear the snow there when Isak arrives, his cheeks red from exertion and his chest heaving a little. He stands straight when Isak walks toward him, and Isak smiles, Even follows quickly with his own, and a small wag of his brows. There are butterflies in his stomach now, and Isak quickly quells them by saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Hey there, neighbour. Do you have any sugar?” Isak asks, going with playful apparently, and Even widens his eyes in amusement and chuckles at the ridiculousness of the statement. He leans against the shovel, like he’s modelling on the cover of a men’s magazine for hardware supplies. Even’s _unreal_. That analogy was too _specific_ but so what? Isak enjoys the sight. 

“I could get some, just for you.” He responds, and Isak grabs at his coat collar and pulls him in, kissing him hard and soft at the same time. Even drops the shovel as he comes to wrap his arms around Isak, and they pull away from each other with a wet pop, soft pants, left breathless yet again. “Come inside, I made coffee.”

He also brings out a bottle of wine, the same one Isak had brought over the day before, but Isak declines. Not only is it a school night, but Isak doesn't really want to get drunk with Even, he just wants to be sober with him.

They barely get through a cup of coffee, barely even twenty minutes into whatever movie Even put on for them to watch, before Isak scatters across the couch like a wild animal and hoists himself over Even’s lap, meeting his lips in a feverish kiss that drives him mad. 

“You smell good.” Even whispers, “Like, flowers?” He laughs, “Why do you smell like flowers?”

“_Ugh_, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Even brings him to his room after making out on the couch becomes unbearable, especially with Isak whining on top of him as his desperate pleas fall from his mouth unwarranted, but he doesn’t hold back. 

Isak began undressing on the way, and Even just laughs, ending up throwing off his own shirt as well and it lands somewhere quietly behind Isak on the stairs. They giggle like teenagers the whole way up. 

Isak works the buckle of Even’s belt just as they enter his room, and he throws it behind him after a moment. Even grabs his wrists just as Isak places his hands on his hips to pull down his pants. 

“What?” Isak asks, breathless, looking up at Even through his lashes, mouth parted as he tries his best to breathe calmly. There’s no such thing as _calm_ in moments like these, in any moments with Even. Not if Isak's heart keeps reacting like this. 

“Come here.” He whispers instead, and pulls Isak into him, kissing him softly and much more gentle than what they’d previously been doing on the couch. He leads Isak to the bed, pushes him back against it and he falls back as gracefully as he can manage. Even climbs over him slowly, kissing a trail up his stomach and chest, biting softly at his neck before their lips meet again. 

The thing is, Isak doesn't think anyone has ever treated him this gently before, this carefully and sweetly. As if Even had already imagined doing this to him many times over, and he wants to savour each moment he gets with Isak spread out beneath him, aching in his pants to be freed but on the same accounts, Isak's deciding to enjoy it to the fullest with all the time in the world at their fingertips. 

“Even,” He pants as his hands slowly tease with his buttons, undoing them at an excruciating pace now. “Even.” He repeats as he feels him smirk against his collarbone, where he’d just previously been sucking on the skin there, getting it wet and easily bruising it with the lightest of bites. 

“What?” Even mocks lightly, and then chuckles as he dives back into the middle of his chest, kissing wet and hot down his stomach, suddenly going at a different pace and bringing Isak’s pants down with him as he goes, his face pressed into Isak’s thighs and he moves to the waistband of his boxers now, and gives Isak a teasing, bashful grin. “Want me to stop?”

“If you stop right now, I swear, I’ll kill you.” 

“Ooh, feisty. I like it.” He whispers against his skin, and he can feel the way he punctuates his words, his lips gliding across him softly. Isak whines, and Even laughs. “I get it, just hold on baby, let me get my own pants off.”

Isak doesn’t know if he’s ever been this desperate before, but he’s too much of a mess to care, lying on the middle of Even’s bed, moaning as he watches Even get up and take off the rest of his clothing before he climbs back over him and gives him a hard, passionate, open-mouthed kiss that turns out to be more romantic than it should be. Almost like he’s trying to say something with it. 

Isak wants to know, wants to hear what Even has to say, but right now, all his blood has drained to his groin and no coherent thoughts are being managed. He moans as he places his hands on Even’s shoulders, feeling the broadened muscles, desperate to feel everything again. A sober repeat of the first night is already turning out to be a thousand times better. He knows he’ll travel beyond the stars tonight, and he’s ready to. 

And now, lying here overwhelmed with lust, Isak thinks he could get used to this most of all. He could definitely see himself here, with Even, every night, lying useless and pliant, eager to please and ready to be fucked into oblivion. He could also just as easily see himself just...cuddling up and watching a movie, as _wild_ as that sounds.

It was great the first time around, and they were _drunk_, stumbling over one another and kissing like animals in heat. Now, though their kisses remain all tongue and desperation, Even’s hands travel over him delicately, like he’s unfolding all of Isak before him, reading between the lines and revelling in everything he finds. Isak is willing to unfold for Even. He wants to give him everything, _everything_ he has. 

“Please,” He whimpers desperately as Even mouths at him over his boxers, waiting for Even to rip them off. But he still moves slowly, his fingers dancing around the edges of the waistband, teasing and soft. And Even keeps smiling, his face flushed and pupils blown wide, his hair a wild mused mess, Isak thinks he probably looks the same right about now, like he’s already spent despite no release ever occurring. 

“You’re so needy.” He laughs, and Isak is too frustrated to bother rolling his eyes, instead, he huffs and grabs for the waistband himself with shaky hands, but Even swats them away. He gives him an intense stare, and Isak shudders underneath it. “Let me take care of you.” He whispers, kissing his hips with sweet, soft presses of his lips, and Isak just shakes his head, unable to comprehend anything right now. 

Sex with Adam was _never_ this gentle, this soft and slow. They were always angry at each other, so their sex lives were more of the same. Hard and fast and quick, biting and sucking and then once it was over, they’d roll away from one another and go to bed. Ignore the mess of it until the sun came up. Then they would just be angry again. Because sex doesn’t help, it only complicates things further. 

Isak hopes Even doesn't roll away from him, and if he does, Isak is going to grab him, he’s going to scoop him up in his arms and hold him and never let him go. He tries not to think about the fact that in a week he’ll be home, in a week Adam will be cornering him and he’ll have nowhere to hide. He’ll be back to the regular scheduled programming, the ups and downs of Eva and Jonas’ life, his _own_ life, which in the presence of Even, doesn't feel as heavy as it usually does. 

“Isak, come back to me.” Even whispers and Isak realizes then that his boxers have been taken off, and Even’s hands are travelling over his inner thighs and upwards, sending goosebumps all over Isak’s body and leaving his legs quivering. 

“Sorry.” Isak breathes and pulls Even down to kiss him, because _this_ is what he wants to get lost in right now. _Nothing else matters right now. _

And just as Even had promised, he takes care of Isak at the slowest, most delicate pace Isak has ever had the pleasure of experiencing. This, he realizes, is what he likes. He doesn’t care for the quick and needy ways, for the quick chase of a release, he wants _this_. He wants Even’s big hands and his soft caress, the way his tongue fucks him open and the way his words slide over him, praising him, caring for him. If this is foreplay, then Isak is a big, _big_ fan. 

"Look at you, _fuck_, Isak.” Even whispers as he’s now got two of his long, beautiful fingers inside of him, and Isak whines, head thrown back into the pillow as Even's fingers curl and thrust slowly into him, deep and heavy. 

“Don’t stop.” Isak hears himself mumble, but it's muffled by the pillow and it’s said through clenched teeth. Even gets the message, and his fingers move faster as he adds another, his desperation leaking through as his breath comes undone. 

Even sinks into him slowly shortly after, and Isak’s hands pull on his back desperately, eager to get himself filled up to the brim with everything Even has to offer, because it feels too good not to get invested in this. It’s way too perfect. Even fits in him like nothing, _nobody_ ever has. Nobody ever _will_ be this perfect. _Even is quickly ruining everyone else for Isak. _

Isak doesn’t mind. 

He falls back as Even begins to make low, shallow thrusts, his head in the crook of Isak’s neck, supporting himself up with his elbows, and one hand comes to raise Isak’s thigh, hitching his leg around his back as he goes impossibly deeper and Isak stretches impossibly wider for him. Isak melts into the mattress, into the soft sheets that smell like vanilla, like Even, and his sweaty body clings to him, heat radiating off of them. 

Even is breathing heavy, he can feel it as Even’s thrusts become more calculated, faster and a little rougher but still on the gentle side, and Isak moans and chants a string of words together that Even seemingly understands, beginning to go faster and faster as Isak chases the feeling. 

He clutches onto Even, nails digging into his back and Even moans with him, a hand fisted in Isak’s hair as the sound of their breathy moans fill the room. Isak meets his eyes, forcing himself to look because he doesn’t want to miss it, and Even looks so blissed out and beautiful, Isak just has to tell him.

“You're beautiful.” Isak mumbles against his lips, “So perfect. You feel so good.” Even kisses him, shoving his tongue in his mouth and practically vibrating with need. Even doesn’t respond, but from the way he’s shaking above him Isak can tell he’s close, and he wants to help. He caresses down Even's side and feels him squirm, he must be ticklish, but continues on until he can place a hand on his ass and he gives him a squeeze, pulling him in further and deeper. 

Even falls apart, moaning obscenely as he kisses Isak, and brings a hand between them to wrap around Isak and Isak whines from the pleasure, the overstimulation, and it feels like hours before they’re both reaching their climax, falling apart in each other's arms and succumbing to the sticky, blissful moments that follow. 

Even falls against him, remains buried inside of Isak, and just breathes. Isak cards a hand through his hair slowly, waiting for Even to come back to him, just like Even had waited for Isak. 

Even raises his hips and slides out of him with a hiss, and Isak can’t help but pout. He can admit that he would've easily fallen asleep like this, with Even’s weight pressed against him so deliciously, filling him up so warmly. 

“So, you’re totally _great_ at that. _Fuck_.” Even says, and he looks weak as he rolls next to Isak, who quickly keeps his promise as he rolls over towards Even instead. Even gives him a bemused grin, a light, playful chuckle escaping him as he puts his hands on Isak’s waist and keeps him there, holding him steady. 

“Yeah, this is a bitch.” Isak huffs out a laugh, and Even pushes the hair away from Isak's forehead before his hand rests on Isak’s cheek. Isak raises a hand to run his fingers through Even’s hair as well, and it’s _always_ as soft as it looks, tousled and curling beneath his fingers. 

“You must travel a lot for work, right?” Even asks, and Isak doesn’t know where this is going.

“Not really, I mean, I do _sometimes_, but most of the time I’m stuck in L.A., if I’m not there my business doesn’t run.”

It dawns on Isak then, what Even is asking. And he presses his cheek further into Even’s palm, looking at him longingly, dropping his hand from Even’s hair even though his fingers still ache to touch. _Don’t. Please._

“Long-distance relationships _can_ work, you know.” Even teases, but there’s a rawness to his words as if he is trying to make Isak believe them, or trying to believe them himself. 

“Really? I can’t make them work when I live in the same _house_ as them.” Isak self-deprecates, because of course he does, he _has_ to. He needs to compose himself. He’s getting too lost in this. The sex is mind-blowing, but he can’t get too hooked just yet. He’s denying he’s already addicted. 

“So this could be a good solution for you.” Even jokes again, but there’s still a tightness to his words, a silent plea in his eyes. 

“Even…I can’t…I can’t see you leaving here, leaving Sophie behind for a week at a time just to come to L.A…Can you see yourself doing that?”

“No…but, you are your own boss, right?”

“Regardless, I can’t travel often, I need to be there to actually get shit done, you know?” Even lets out a _hmm_ at his words, and looks away, shoving his face into the side of the pillow as he thinks, and Isak sits up, forcing Even to turn to him again. Even looks amused again, and no longer scared of whatever Isak’s brain is concocting. Isak isn’t sure if he looks scared himself, but when he starts to speak, he sounds as composed as ever has before. “Okay, let's just say we commit to doing this, going back and forth for like, six months.”

“That sounds do-able.” Even smiles with a little nod, appreciating Isak’s words, but Isak isn’t finished yet.

“And then we hit a wall. I can’t constantly get on a plane, or Sophie can’t handle you leaving again. We start to break from the tension, we know this isn’t going to work, so we start fighting, and after a long, tearful phone call, we say goodbye.” He pauses, blinking a few times as his own words sink, feeling distant, as if the words aren't his own. “It isn’t like we’ll bump into each other, so that’ll be it. For real.” Isak hates everything he’s said, and Even’s face falls from his words, “It’ll be over, and then what’s left? Two people feeling totally, messed up and hurt…Or—“

“Oh_ thank god_ there’s another option.” Even laughs, squeezing Isak’s thigh. It almost burns, the soft touch that Even gives him at this moment, like Isak’s own body is yelling at him to stop talking, stop giving excuses. 

“Maybe we just accept that these past few days have been perfect, and the next week will be too, and it doesn't have to be _more_ than this. Maybe we are only doing this in the first place because we _know_ it won’t work out, and maybe I can let myself... fantasize about how _perfect_ you are because I can't really ever be _with_ you.”

He finishes with a huff, and Even doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Isak, remember when you promised me you wouldn't fall in love with me?” Even asks suddenly, and Isak nods solemnly at the words he’d spoken to him only a few mornings prior, and now looking down at Even, he realizes how foolish he was to make that promise. “I never promised that with you.” Even whispers. “I have another scenario for you.” He sits up, meeting Isak at eye-level who feels like he might just combust at the mere sight of the absolute confidence pouring out of the man he’s in bed with. 

Even looks at him for a long time, and then gives him a soft smile, a reassuring one that makes all the composure melt away, all the excuses too. 

“Isak, I’m falling for you. Hard and fast, and it took me two minutes to figure it out.” He says, and then, “And I’m not feeling this way because you're leaving. And not because it won’t work out, which, honestly Isak, how do you know it won’t?” He’s quiet for a moment, then continues before Isak has a chance to collect his thoughts. “But the problematic, complicated as fuck truth is: I am in love with you. I just know it. I realize I’m a...package deal, with Sophie and my bipolar, not to mention the fact that we live so far from one another, but I know what I want. And it's _you_, Isak. _You_.” He brings a hand to cradle his cheek just the way Isak craves, and he savours it. "And you being speechless at this moment is not the reaction one dreams of, but—“

“I just…I'm trying to find the right thing to say.” Isak tries, his words feeling weak and pathetic on his tongue, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, tasting something like regret. Even gives him a fond smile, one that helps ease the pain in his chest, only for a moment. 

“I think if the obvious response isn’t coming to you, then we should just talk about something else. Like... how ridiculous I am?” He tries, and it makes Isak let out one, tiny, pitiful chuckle. It’s not towards Even, it’s for himself. 

“You _did_ say you wouldn’t fall in love with me. I won’t hold it against you. I just want you to know this is how _I_ feel, and no matter the distance, no matter our jobs and everything else that ties us down, I want you to know I love you. You’re worthy of my love, and everyone’s love. You’re so much more than you think you are Isak. So much.” There are tears in his eyes, his words bleeding with sincerity that Isak has never felt before. 

“You talk too much.” Isak breathes out before he kisses him, and though it's not the response he wants, Even takes it, because he’s kind like that, he’s understanding in ways Isak can’t compete with.

The snow keeps building up, and somehow, despite Even’s confession, it still doesn’t feel suffocating. Isak wants to keep going, almost feels like he needs to. He’s fully deciding to keep rolling no matter what. 

Even pulls Isak back over him as they kiss endlessly into the night, tangling further into one another, dangerously close to falling further. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little role reversal there at the end "how do you know it wont work out, isak!?" dskjnas 
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading!! theres still a lot i have in store, so stay tuned!!
> 
> kudos & comments always appreciated, come yell @ me about this verse on tumblr (peachyisak) !! 
> 
> thank you for reading !
> 
> xo, kris


	3. wait for me. wait for me.

Things feel heavier in the morning, Isak wakes well-rested despite whatever weight feels situated on his back, now, and through the discomfort, he peaks open his eyes. He’s got half his face pressed into the pillow, arms beneath it as he cuddles it tightly. 

He hears the subtle sound of a pencil across paper, but doesn’t fully register it until he sees Even, sitting upwards, a sketchbook placed on his lap as he waits for Isak to presumably wake up. He looks concentrated, focused on whatever he’s drawing with slow, soft strokes on the page that sound like a mantra, echoing off the walls around them. 

_He loves me,_ is the first thought of the day, and Isak closes his eyes again, evens out his breathing, tries to calm his beating heart. _He loves me. He loves me. How can someone like him love someone like me. _

Isak hears Even’s pause, almost like he’s lost in thought for a moment, and Isak holds his breath, afraid Even might’ve heard his thoughts somehow. He continues drawing again, and Isak relaxes, the sound of him sketching is far too enchanting to possibly wake up right now and have it come to an end. 

He lies there for a few minutes, or it could’ve been days, just listening, and occasionally, Even will stop drawing and then continue. In these flat moments, these dull, brief pauses of Even seemingly lost in thought, Isak realizes that Even is simply staring at him, memorizing the sight of Isak sleeping before him before he resumes sketching. He can feel it, he knows it, that Even is watching him sleep. 

It’s that thought that finally makes him stir. 

He stretches out his leg, effectively tangling it with Even’s as he opens his eyes, turning over and stretching a little closer. Even’s hand drops a little, but he smiles upwards, watching as Isak stretches his arms above his head and yawns. 

“Morning.” Isak smiles up at him, his mouth feeling dry. Even just looks at him, and for a moment Isak wishes he could read his mind right now. He shuffles, closes his sketchbook and pencil, leaving them to the side, and moves so he’s lying next to Isak. He’s letting the early morning daze linger, and Isak didn’t know he could enjoy lazy mornings this much. 

Once the alarm goes off, Isak usually forces himself out of bed and into the shower, waking up in there with the cold water spraying on him. 

This, _this_ is much better. 

He revels in Even’s soft touch, the way he moves towards him like the world isn’t spinning, time isn’t relevant to them right now. They cuddle closer, sharing the warmth, and Even kisses him until he’s breathless. 

“Good morning.” 

Isak thinks its a perfect one. 

Even departs to go make them some coffee, and comes back with toasted waffles too, cut into strips for them to dip into maple syrup. They spend as much time as they can lounging in bed, if Isak didn’t know any better, he might’ve been dreaming the whole thing. 

Even reluctantly has to get up and go to work. Isak sits there, sipping his coffee and watching Even through his morning routine. He changes into khakis and a blue button-up, and a tie. Isak is about to explode with how good he looks. 

“Alright, I’ll drive you back to Sonja’s before I go to work, yeah?” Even says just as he’s finished tying his tie, looking at Isak through the mirror. Isak pulls back the sheets and stands up, walking over to him and slowly places his hands on Even's hips, circling them forward to properly hold him from behind, their gazes meeting in the mirror. 

“I hate that you have to go to work.” He mumbles, and Even chuckles, leaning back against Isak. 

“Yeah, well, we’re not _all_ on holiday yet.” He jokes, and turns around to look at Isak properly, bringing his hands up to hold Isak’s cheeks in his hands before pressing a quick kiss to his nose. “C’mon, I’ll be late if we don’t get going.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Isak asks, a smirk on his face as he takes a hold of Even’s tie, wraps his hand around it and tugs it slightly. Even’s eyes widen, his mouth going slack, and he lets out a heavy breath. 

“Fuck, don’t tempt me.” He says with a smile, but his eyes tell a different story, staring at Isak with hunger. 

“Fine.” Isak moves forward to kiss him quickly before he removes himself from Even’s arms and begins collecting his clothes off the floor from last night. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Just borrow one of mine.” Even says, picking up the dishes to take them downstairs. Isak blushes, picking out one of Even’s shirts and quickly putting it on. 

He witnesses a morning like no other a few days later, after his first Official Sleepover at the Bech Næsheim household with Even _and_ Sophie, the three of them eating sweets and watching movies into the late hours of the night. 

It turned out to be a Baz Luhrmann marathon, which Even informs him is his favourite director, and both Sophie and Isak gave him an eyeroll for that. Sophie was sitting on the floor playing with toys, barely paying attention to the movies, and Isak was having a hard time not cuddling up next to Even. 

“He’s your favourite? Really?” Isak asked. 

“What have you got against Baz, huh? A.K.A, the best director of our decade?” Even challenges him, and Isak feels like his whole body might combust if he doesn’t touch him right now. 

“_Even_…” Isak smiles, and slowly brings his hand toward Even, who takes it quickly, linking their fingers together.

And after watching three consecutive Baz Luhrmann movies in a row, Isak can say he now has nothing against him. If anything, he’s just mad at how easily his movies make Even cry, who tries to silently pat away his tears. 

Today marks the last day of school before both Even and Sophie are free for the holidays, and Isak for one, is more excited than them both combined. 

Even is out of bed at _exactly_ 6:30, without an alarm, too. He’s showering, the scent of vanilla following him more prominently afterwards, drifting around the room in a haze. He’s getting dressed and arranging his things, and then he’s disappearing from the room to go pack Sophie and his lunch, like a Super Dad on the loose. 

All the while, Isak drifts in and out of sleep, a blissful state between consciousness and dreaming, occasionally waking when Even comes to kiss his cheek or push back his hair. He thinks he hears him speaking to him occasionally, sweet little nothings, followed by a stroke down his back, or Even letting out a sigh as he tucks Isak into the bed some more, pulls the sheets a little tighter around him, as if he is happy enough to just watch him sleep, as if Isak is now a part of his morning routine, and he couldn’t be happier. 

It’s almost meditative, in a way, to just lie there and know Even is going to be there once Isak finally wakes. It makes waking up so much harder because then that means the day will have to continue and he can no longer lie here surrounded by Even’s scent and his care. But that makes it easier, too, because another day spent with Even just means another good day. 

So he sits up, stretches his arms out and yawns before his hands fall to his sides, and he hears something crumple beneath one of them. He lifts his hand and finds a piece of paper there waiting for him. It’s a small doodle, of Even presumably, making coffee in the kitchen. _Meet me downstairs <3_ is written on the side, and Isak throws off the blankets as quick as he can, wondering to himself why he hadn’t already. 

He stumbles into the kitchen just after 7:30, after thrifting through Even’s closet and finding the biggest and softest hoodie he could pick out. At least Even’s house was a little bit warmer than Sonja’s cottage in the morning, but that doesn’t mean Isak is going to miss the chance to bundle himself up in something soft and warm, smelling like vanilla. 

“Oh, hey, you’re awake, good morning.” Even greets, and Isak wants to laugh. Even is apparently marking an assignment at this time in the morning while sipping his coffee, hunched over the table and letting the early morning sunlight be his guide. Isak brushes past him to go towards the cupboards and get a cup, silently questioning how Even is capable of doing _anything_ at this hour. He yawns, and for a second, it consumes all of him and his jaw aches afterwards. He’s so _tired_. 

“Do you know you’ve said that to me almost every morning since we met?” Isak asks, and then he drops his voice a little, turning to mock Even, _“Oh, hey, you’re awake, good--_” 

He almost drops the cup, and gasps at the sight before him, the rest of his joke failing to be spoken.

Even is wearing glasses, he looks like every student-teacher wet dream Isak’s ever _had_ in his _life_.

“Uh, I do? Geez.” He winces at himself, but then laughs, “Getting bored of me or something?” He laughs again, and Isak is just staring, unable to grasp the sight in front of him. He didn’t know something as intricate as an accessory like glasses could possibly evoke this kind of response in him. Maybe it’s just Even, but, _wow_, despite his sleep-riddled mind he could easily let Even do whatever he pleases with him right now. “I can’t believe you noticed something like that.” 

Isak flushes, realizes he’s gone wide-eyed like a baby deer, and he brings a hand to rub at his nose, acting nonchalant as Even continues to give him his quizzical, amused, lopsided grin, making Isak’s heart scream. 

“Uh, no. Shut up.” He quickly retorts. 

“Shh, Isak, children. Speaking of,” He calls for Sophie then, who then yells something completely unintelligible back. Even just shrugs and sips his coffee, looking back to Isak through the black squared frames of his glasses with a knowing smile. 

_You fucker. _

“So, glasses? Did you always have those?” Isak asks as cooly as he can, but his voice comes out so strained it gives him away. He clears his throat, looking at Even expectantly. 

“Just when I’m reading, or marking assignments.” He concludes, gesturing to his task. 

“You’re so _old_, oh my god.” Isak chuckles, forcing himself to turn away and pour coffee. His hand is shaking. He takes a deep breath before he stirs in his sugar. 

“Isak, I’m 29.” He laughs, leaning back into his chair. Then something dawns on him. “Wait, how old are you?”

“27.” Isak nods, and Even suddenly looks taken aback.

“What? You’re a baby.”

“_Nei_, the fuck?” Isak goes to sit across from him hastily, his snarky reply filled with annoyance and fondness. 

“Isak, language.” 

“I— I’m so sorry, I’m not used to—“

“Don’t worry.” Even reaches forward with a laugh, and presses his hand around Isak’s wrist, squeezing with a softness. “But, you’re 27? And judging from how well you speak Norwegian, I’m guessing you grew up here? Or at least have Norwegian parents?”

“Uh, yeah, we never talked about this, huh?”

"You mentioned your parents splitting up, but not this, no.” Even says, “But you don’t have to if you don't want to.”

“Honestly Even, I don’t know what the hell I want so this can’t hurt, right? Like we said, this is way past complicated now.”

Even looks indecisive for a moment, and he looks at Isak like he’s searching for something again. So Isak shifts his hand into Even’s, and links their fingers together, effectively shutting down whatever question might’ve come next. 

“This…this is something I _do_ want, right now,” Isak looks up slowly from their intertwined fingers, and holds a steady breath when Even looks back to meet his eyes. “But all I know is I’ll be leaving soon, and I don’t want to spend the whole time I’m here thinking about it and _analyzing_ it when I could just be…be _doing_ it.” 

“Doing what?”

“Just…being with you? Is that good enough?” Isak asks, trying not to let the dots connect between Adam’s words, which were spoken so harshly and with cruel intent, and to his question, which begs Even for more than Isak can give fully in return. 

Even looks at him for a few long, almost excruciating moments, and the air feels too intense now. It’s the last thing Isak wanted in this previously perfect moment, which he somehow managed to screw up. At least this time he knows it was done subconsciously, he was trying to be honest. Still, he remains quiet. 

Even takes off his glasses, and then leans forward towards Isak, and Isak holds his breath.

“It’s more than good enough.” He whispers, and Isak leans forward to close the gap between them and kiss him. 

“Wait, put the glasses back on.” Isak says, and Even chokes, as if he’s only just realized that Isak likes them on him.

“You like them? Thrifted em, works like a charm.” Even quickly backs away just enough to put them on and give him a wink. Isak quickly leans forward over the table and gives Even one, two, three subtle pecks, to which he beams at in response. 

“Oh no, not the Prince!” Sophie is there suddenly, and they both quickly move away, their hand scrambling from one another as she stands there with a look of shock. Isak remains quiet, and Even just smiles, cool and collected as usual. 

“Cocoa puffs?” Even asks, and Sophie shrugs and then goes sliding into a chair at the end of the table as Even gets up to make her a bowl. Once he’s set it up for her and she begins eating, Even settles back into his chair. “Hey Soph, want the joke of the day?” He asks, and Sophie nods, looking too busy with her food to properly argue it. “What do you call an alligator who’s also a detective?”

“What?”

“An investi-_gator_.” He emphasizes, waits for the punchline to land, and Sophie goes off into a fit of giggles when it finally does. Isak laughs too, because of how absolutely ridiculous the joke is, how terribly he lands it, and yet, it’s perfect. Even looks beyond pleased after the fact, giving Isak a look like _see?_, and then goes on to tell her another joke, “Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

“Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field.” 

This goes on for the better half of the morning, Even has a literal arsenal of bad puns. He understands then why Sophie calls him the jester. It makes Isak feel positively _gooey_ at the moment, and at one point he almost laughs so hard while sipping his coffee that Even laughs at him in return, mocking him for almost spitting it out all over the table. 

Isak wants to argue back, wants to say something else, but refrains because he’s not sure what it is. All he knows is he enjoys every minute he spends with Even, he feels so…so much like _himself_, he doesn’t feel a need to put up an act with him in any way. 

And maybe that’s why Isak just enjoys him so much, because he doesn’t have to hide behind any kind of facade. Even met him when he was at his lowest, and now, Isak is hoping he doesn’t regret being acquainted with Isak’s full potential. 

Even ends up driving Isak home on their way to take Sophie to her last day of school before the holidays take over, and promises to call him after work. Sophie is half-asleep in the back seat, and Isak keeps yawning because of her. 

“Going to go back to sleep?” Even chuckles, “Lucky you.” _Wish you could join me._

“Well, I _am_ on holiday.” Isak responds, unbuckling from his seat and then leaning over to give Even a quick kiss, because he can, he wants to, and Even looks pleased. They don’t outwardly express that they’ll see each other later, because they both know they will without having to say it. They both know at this point that they can’t go more than a few hours without the possibility of seeing one another or at least talking on the phone, it’s what Isak looks forward to most. 

Isak spends his day cooking, or better yet, trying to cook. He found a bottle of white wine and after taste-testing a bunch of different snacks Even bought, he then finds a stack of recipes in a small container next to the fridge. The first one he picks out is for chicken soup, and honestly, it sounds fucking great right now. 

So he puts on a record:

**Rumours - Fleetwood Mac**   
_Isak, this is one of the greats. _   
_Enjoy :)_

And he sips wine while Freya lounges on the counter and watches him. For the first time ever, she doesn’t look judgemental. Maybe it’s because he’s letting her sit on the counter that she’s so smitten with him now. 

He ends up making something half-decent, as if his teen years spent living with Noora and Eskild actually _had_ some effect on him. The vegetables are diced and everything at least _looks_ edible. He doesn’t really want to try it just yet. 

His phone rings and he scrambles for it, Jonas’ smiling face lighting up at him. Damn, how long has it been since he’s even talked to Jonas? There’s so much he needs to ask, he needs to know how his friend is coping in London. 

There’s so much he wants to _say_, and the first thing he wants to tell Jonas is that he doesn’t need to worry anymore -- which, Isak wonders why he feels so compelled to tell him that. He just does. 

“Halla?” 

“Isak, man, what’ve you been doing that nobody can get a hold of you?” Jonas laughs on the other line, and Isak’s feels strained once a laugh comes out of him, as thoughts of Even crawl into his mind. He lets the air hang, not knowing what to answer. Thankfully, Jonas doesn’t pry. “I at least hope you’ve kept your promise, and haven’t been doing any work?”

“Actually Jonas, I’ve been relaxing and chilling _so_ hard, you’d be jealous if I told you, so I just wanted to spare you.” 

“Yeah, okay smartass.” Jonas laughs again, and Isak does too. 

“How are things with...Eva’s parents?” He asks, not beating around the bush, and he can hear Jonas sigh. Isak can almost see him lost in thought, become uneasy, contemplative and weighing his options, the words grinding around in his head. There’s some shuffling on his side, and then Jonas begins speaking again.

“I mean, all things considered, it hasn’t been too bad.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like, her parents were pretty pissed at first, but it turns out they’re madder at not being there to witness us say our vows... and sign the paper -- plus now, they’re talking about babies all the time, saying things like:_ ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have a baby around here next Christmas?’_, which honestly is less of a hint than it is a request. And Eva--” 

His phone buzzes lightly against his ear and he pulls it back to see _Even_ calling, but he hears Jonas still talking, so regretfully, he’ll have to wait. He has half a mind to just hang up and answer Even, but he doesn’t, because Jonas is _still_ talking, even as Isak unknowingly spaces out halfway through the conversation. 

“-anyways, I just wanted to call and make sure you’re cool? You know what tomorrow is, right?”

“Uh, another day?”

“Christmas Eve.” He says, and Isak stills. And it’s like he’s forgotten that he was here on holidays, that this wasn’t his life. That he wasn’t waiting for Even to come home and they’d have dinner together, talk about their days, cuddle up on the couch, and then settle into bed to fall asleep in the comfort of one another. 

And for a moment, a fleeting one, Isak is pained by the thought that this _can’t_ be his life, that this is just a blip on his radar, a small clip of what his life _could_ be before he has to go home, and if it is supposed to be just a small, insignificant thing, then why does it feel so much more than that? Why does it hurt more at the thought, the impending fact, of having to go back to L.A. more than it did to break things off with Adam once and for all? 

Why does he feel worse about declining Even’s call than he does to Adam’s advances?

Isak can tell, now more than ever, that Even really has fallen for him, and he’s painfully aware of it every time Even so much as gives him a quick smile, a wink, a kiss, a touch. Everything Even does shouts _grand romance,_ and Isak fights the urge to book an earlier flight. 

He doesn’t know why that urge is even still there, especially after their silent agreement between them that neither will be focusing on what comes _after_, they just want to experience the _now_, together. He puts all of his energy into it, he rolls with it until the very bittersweet end. He knows he won’t be able to brush the snow off easily, but he’ll deal with the suffocation when it comes. 

Isak is honestly a little surprised it hasn’t been suffocating yet. It’s just been..._lovely_, is the only word that comes to mind. 

“Oh, yeah.” Isak chuckles, “I’ve been so relaxed here, I’ve forgotten what day is which.” He tries, and Jonas gives him a sympathetic laugh back. He can only imagine the look he’d be giving him if Isak were to go in-depth on his trip thus far. He’s about to segue the conversation back to Eva and _babies_, but Jonas lets out a long sigh and begins talking before Isak has a chance to. 

“Call me if you need anything, alright? I have to go, last-minute Christmas shopping. I think Eva’s Mom is going to take us to look at baby clothes.” He snorts.

“Sounds chill. I’ll text you.”

It’s not even a few seconds later that Even calls again, and Isak nearly drops his phone in the soup as he goes to answer it. He takes a breath, composes himself, and brings the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, how’s your day been?” Isak asks with interest, a smile taking over. Or at least he _thought_ he could compose himself. So much for that, though. 

“Good, I’m actually calling to ask if you have any plans tomorrow.”

Isak’s stomach sinks. The nerves settle in, but then he takes a breath and waits for it to dissipate. It doesn’t take long. 

“No, do you?”

“Nope.” He announces, letting the end of his word pop dramatically, “Sophie’s going to be at Ingrid’s parents for the night, then on Christmas Day we’re going to Mikael’s parents. Did you want to spend Christmas Eve…uh, together?” He asks shyly, and how could Isak ever say no to an offer like that?

“Sure, but, I don’t really…_celebrate_ Christmas. I mean, I do, just not in the traditional way, you know?”

“And what is this traditional way you speak of, Isak?” Even laughs, clearly amused, and Isak rolls his eyes in a fond annoyance, happy that Even isn't here to see how wide his smile is. 

He doesn’t think he’d mind if Even _was_ here, though, because then he’d be able to see Even smiling right back at him, laughing at how ridiculous Isak is, how ridiculous they both seem to be, about everything and nothing at the same time. About each other. And then it feels painful, that they’re _not_ together right now. He grips his phone a little tighter as he goes to sit back on the couch as if somehow, he can grasp Even through it. 

“I don’t know, lots of family and presents and singing Christmas carols around the tree.” He shrugs, and then after a moment of hearing Even laugh at him, he continues. “As long as you don’t make me sing Christmas carols, I’m in.”

“Could I buy you a present, though?”

“What? No. I don’t have anything for you, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“I can think of a few different things you could do to make it up to me.” Even says slyly, and Isak feels his body respond instantly to the way Even’s voice drops an octave in his suggestion. Isak lets out a breathy sigh and then gives in.

“Fine, whatever, but I won’t feel guilty about not getting you a present.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to feel guilty. What’s Christmas for if you can’t buy a gift for someone to show you care?”

“And you _care_, Even?”

“I do. Thanks for asking.” Even continues to let out a few chuckles, and then its quiet, comfortably so, before Even sighs. “Anyways, I can’t see you tonight, unfortunately, but…tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Come hungry.” Even commands of him sweetly, and Isak bites his lip, and figures that if Even can flirt with him and make him blush, he’s going to do the same. 

“I always do.” 

And then he’s left to his own devices for the first night in a while, and it isn’t all bad. He gets his laptop open, catching up on emails from Sonja. 

______________________

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

You should’ve seen it, Isak. They gave Arthur a standing ovation, it was so beautiful, he was so shocked!! 

I invited Claire too, she made my night :) 

______________________

_Claire_. Ever since Even had told him about Sonja, Isak’s been wondering if those two were getting closer, and from the sounds of it, there was something budding there. He couldn’t help himself from prying a little more, despite the fact that she hasn’t come out to him yet herself. But almost every single one of her emails had something to do with Claire, and Isak was definitely rooting for it. 

______________________

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

That sounds amazing, Sonja, I wish I could’ve been there!

Although, I'm pretty happy where I am right now, too :)

How are things with Claire, hmm?   
Any interesting developments I should know about? ;)

From: sonja.97@gmail.com  
To: isakyaki@gmail.com

Hmm..I’m not really one to kiss and tell, Isak ;) 

How are things with Even? 

To: sonja.97@gmail.com  
from: isakyaki@gmail.com

Well if you’re not going to kiss and tell, then I’m not either!

______________________

Sonja doesn’t respond after that, but he can imagine her laughing at it. He sips his wine and eats his soup (which ends up being better than he thought it would be), and cuddles Freya all night. It’s eventful, and it’s not. It’s relaxing, and Isak goes to bed that night feeling lighter. 

He wakes in the morning, looking more forward to this day than he ever has before, to more texts from Adam. He ignores them with ease.

  
______________________

**DONT TEXT**

_What should I tell my parents when you don’t show up with me this year?_

______________________

Isak couldn’t care less. That’s _his_ problem. 

Isak’s dad left when he was 11. He claimed to have _fallen out of love_ with his mother, and Isak cried more than she did. He cried for _weeks_, bleeding into _months_ of despair, his young mind and heart were so broken, so confused, and he remembers the fights he and his mother got into, her refusal and denial, his pleading. 

When he was 16 he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt terrible to leave her, but the worse she got, the more he realized he couldn’t help her. He told her he loved her, that he would never truly abandon her, but he _did_. Her grip on reality was gone, and Isak felt lost alongside her. 

He met Eskild through Noora, and when he learned they had an extra room available, he hopped on the opportunity and never looked back. He tried picking up shifts at a local KB, to pay rent, and send his mother some cheques, which he _still_ doesn’t know if she ever got. 

She never sent him any letters in response to his, and two years later, he was moving to L.A. Even now, where time had somehow progressed to the point where he and Jonas were living comfortably and successfully on their musical careers, as Isak writes her a cheque and sends it off to Norway, he doesn’t know how she’s doing, if she gets them. 

Isak felt terrible to leave Eskild, Linn, and Noora behind, the three people outside of his other friends who’d taken him in and become a family to him. But Eskild wasn’t going to hold him back, nothing could hold him back from following Jonas to L.A., and it wasn’t because he was _in love_ with Jonas or anything, that crush had long since been fizzled out. He moved with the hopes of a budding career in the music industry. He packed his keyboard (a Christmas present from his roommates the first year he moved in), a backpack full of clothes, and was on his way. Jonas was just a plus to have alongside him. 

It was half chance and half luck that he and Jonas found a small apartment above a bike shop near Santa Monica, which resembled something closer to a broom closet than an actual apartment. A bunk bed and a small fridge, a TV stacked on it with their precious Playstation (their only solace after working 40+ hours a week). Despite the miserable living conditions, he and Jonas were happier then than he ever remembered them being, they were chasing their dreams, committing to a life of possible failure, and the hopes of success at their fingertips. 

By this point, Isak had come to realize he might never _find love_, not in the way other people experienced it. And slowly, he was coming to accept that his life would be one lived in solitude, as long as he had his friends and his music, he could be happy with that. He could be. He _needed_ to be. 

There was a party on the beach, a gathering of Jonas’ coworkers, and after much persuasion on Jonas’ side, Isak finally relented and went with him. It was like something out of a teenage summer film, a small bonfire lit on the beach with people drinking and smoking to their heart's content as the waves crashed around them. Jonas brought his guitar to woo all his coworkers with his talents, and Isak felt a little out of the loop. 

It was here he met Adam, as Isak was standing off to the side, half drunk and half high with the intention of leaving as soon as Jonas was finished his next round of songs. Adam had seen him, sought him out, and he was _nothing_ like Isak imagined he’d be. 

It was like puppy-love at the beginning, the first few weeks were blissful, Adam doted on Isak _constantly_, and in return of that affection, Isak somehow became this other version of himself he didn’t enjoy. Isak constantly wanted to impress him, this beautiful Californian boy with hazel eyes and a gorgeous mane of chocolate curls. Isak did everything he could to impress him, to gain his praise, and that in itself was an everyday battle. Nothing he did seemed to be enough, and Isak couldn’t see the toll it was taking on him. 

It wasn’t until Jonas pointed it out, only a few weeks into Isak and Adam being official, that Isak realized he was getting lost in trying to be what Adam wanted him to be, what Isak thought he _needed_ to be in order to have love in his life. 

It felt like an intervention, and that’s exactly what it was. 

_“Why do you always do everything for him?”_ Jonas spoke with concern, and with precision. Isak didn’t know what he was talking about._ “It’s always what Adam _needs_ and what Adam _wants_, what about _you_, Isak?”_

_“I see the way he treats you, and you’re starting to pull away from me, from the things you love like your music, when’s the last time you wrote something? The last time you played? I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. You’re constantly seeking his approval when the only approval you need is your own.”_

The walls didn’t take long to build after that. And they were built to keep Isak in. 

Even had said he tends to hurt people by being himself, and Isak wanted to retaliate, _at least you don’t hurt people by trying to be what they want you to be. _

Isak stares down at the texts on his phone, and shudders. He was so _tired_ of this back and forth between them, he was _tired_ of trying to be someone else just for the sake of love. It was a whirlwind of five years spent exhausting himself for love, of fooling themselves that they could work, meanwhile, the anger only grew, the resentment clear, and nothing could stop the inevitable. No amount of couple getaways -- or Adam’s _proposal_, which Isak can’t recall giving a coherent answer for, they were both wasted when it happened. The fights they had about it for months afterwards left Isak feeling ill. 

Jonas never understood why Isak stayed with Adam, and Isak couldn’t give him an answer. _Convenience_. Adam was convenient, Isak had opened up to him about everything, and the thought of having to do that with someone else felt like condemning himself to purgatory. 

He shakes it off, and deletes the text with ease. It’s almost second-nature now. He has half a mind to just not open the messages at all, but he kind of likes them, in a twisted way of sorts, because he enjoys knowing that Adam is still trying, that his desperate ways haven’t ended. 

Isak isn’t trying. He’s barely thought about him, and he wants to keep it that way. 

He closes his eyes, letting his mind fill with thoughts of Even, and how being honest with him thus far has only ended in being closer to him in a way he’s never been, never _felt_, with Adam. Though his time with Even may be fleeting, Isak was letting himself enjoy it. It was so easy with Even, and when they were together, nothing was as hard as it always was. 

The day goes by excruciatingly slow, only because he has to wait until 4pm to make his way to Even’s since he’s spending the day with Sophie at her grandparents before leaving her there for the evening, which will be then occupied with Isak and Isak alone. It seems as though each passing minute is taking its sweet, sweet time to go by, taunting him. Isak busies himself to the best of his abilities, he puts on a movie:

**10 Things I Hate About You - dir. Gil Junger**   
_Teen romance doesn’t get better than this._

He likes it a lot. Heath Ledger is gorgeous. 

_and_ a record:

**Super Trouper - ABBA **   
_Be the Super Trouper of your life, Isak!_

He wipes down the kitchen, washes the bedsheets, plays with Freya for as long as she cares to, taking Sonja’s note to heart and being the Super Trouper of his life, whatever that means. 

Then by four, he’s out the door, a cab waiting, bundled in his coat and scarf and Even’s black beanie that fits so snug. He runs his hand over it a few times, almost expecting it to be as soft as Even, but it isn’t. The real thing is much better. 

When Even opens the door, he’s wearing his glasses again, an apron, and a bright red turtleneck knit sweater underneath. 

And Isak can’t deny it _does_ things for him, and for a moment, as he takes off his coat and Even waits patiently for him to finish taking off his shoes, he imagines what it might be like if Even was only wearing an apron — and yes, that would definitely be something Isak would like. Glasses or no glasses, but Even in less clothing? _Yeah_. 

“Merry Christmas Eve.” Even chimes, like the dear he is, the second Isak stands straight after he’d bent down to arrange his shoes neatly. Even keeps giving him that amused grin he gives Isak during moments like these, that are less awkward than they are exciting, because finally, _finally, _they’re together again. He breathes it in. 

“You too, have you been cooking?” He asks, gesturing to the apron, and only then just notices a towel draped over his shoulder as well. It’s not as if he couldn’t deduct that yeah, Even was cooking, that much was obvious, from his apron and towel and the bit of flour scuffed on his cheek. Not to mention the heat in the home, filled with the feeling of someone who spent the better half of their afternoon cooking. Even chuckles lightly, a sound Isak is proud he could be a part of, be the reason for. 

“You should be a detective, with how well you figure these things out.” He jokes, and before Isak has a chance to roll his eyes, Even is kissing him, and things feel better than they have in a long, long time. Too long. When Even pulls away, and his hands are still cradling Isak’s face, his thumbs brushing across his cheeks, Isak lets his eyes stay closed for a second longer, just to savour it. “Come on, Prince Isak, let me show you what I’ve been doing.” 

Isak takes his hand and Even leads him to the kitchen, past the living room where a fire crackles, and once in the kitchen, Isak props himself against the counter, the only free space on them, and takes in the sight before him. It’s like a tornado whipped through his kitchen, and it stands in the embodiment of an angel in the wreck, _Even_, smiling at him triumphantly. 

There are pots and pans, filled with various dishes that spark while cooking, potato dumplings and strips of lamb being cooked and steamed upon the criss-cross birch twigs, just like how he remembers his Mamma doing it when he was younger. The kitchen is hot, and the scents are overwhelming; like butter and spices rolled up together and saying: _here’s someone who spent all afternoon doing their best to make sure you’re cared for._ And it’s exactly what it feels like.

Even opens the stove for a moment, just enough for Isak to catch the sight of three pans of cookies, which look to be gingerbread, and his heart feels about ready to explode. 

The kitchen is a mess, as it usually ends up looking after Even’s been through it, like a storm filled with determination. But there is a calmness to the madness, a few different recipe books propped open with various utensils, the radio playing music at a volume low enough to just add a hum of jazzy Christmas music to the background. Not to mention, Even, who stands there amongst the chaos he created, unknowingly being the best part of it all, and unashamed at that. 

Isak finds himself admiring Even while he talks, the way his eyes light up, the way he gestures to different things so animatedly, so passionately, and Isak could stand here all day just _looking_ at him. 

“So, I made lamb, and dumplings, and for dessert I _did_ buy a kransekake —“ He points over to the corner, where Isak follows, just to see the small cake in all its glory, standing with about ten different layers and full of reds and greens, adorned with some decorative pine needles and a star on top. “But, I couldn’t help myself, Sophie loves gingerbread, as do I.” He gestures back to the stove. 

“Well, consider me impressed.” Isak says, and Even, he _blushes_, almost as if his goal was to impress Isak all along, and now that it’s been achieved and Isak is unabashedly admiring all his hard work, Even can relax. He effectively lets out a heavy breath, almost as if he’d been holding it all day. Isak wants to kiss him so bad. 

“I mean, I can’t account for how it’ll all _taste_, but, that’s why I also bought wine.” 

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Isak laughs, and Even does too, placing two wine glasses down and opening his freezer to take out a bottle of rosé. He pours them both a glass, they clink their cups and sip, both trying not to smile too hard as they stare at one another. 

Isak kisses him, just once, just enough to tell Even all the things he can’t comprehend right now. But then it turns into more than one kiss because Even is hoisting him up on the counter, wine forgotten, lips and hands desperately pulling one another in, and Isak feels like he’s waited an eternity for this. The back of Isak’s head hits the cabinet, and Even mumbles out a small apology but it dies on his tongue once Isak can dive forward, deeper into him, arching his back to press their chests flush together, feeling Even’s hands squeeze his sides in anticipation and desire. 

“If I knew all it’d take for me to impress you was to cook a meal for you, I would’ve done it the moment I stepped through your door.” Even says, and Isak leans back on the counter as Even steps away, grabbing a pair of tongs and flipping the lamb around. Isak revels in the man before him, who stands with a heart so big he wonders if it gets tiring to hold it up alone. But he isn’t alone, he’s got Sophie, and Sonja, and Isak. He’s got Isak. And Isak wonders if Even is brave enough, courageous as he may be, to possibly hold Isak’s heart, to hold all his weight, too. Isak would hold the weight of the universe on his back if it meant Even would stay. 

Isak knows they could probably go all night, trying to figure out _who_ has more baggage, but instead, he tilts his head to the side, and Even narrows his eyes at him from behind his glasses, and Isak is tired of trying to figure out the right words to say. The right words to make him stay. 

“Yeah, but _you_ were on the menu that night, so it still counts.” Isak picks up his wine again, and Even gasps, but his smile gives him away, because he’s clearly more infatuated with the idea of him being Isak’s first choice of things to put in his mouth. He doesn’t say that, but it’s implied, and Isak raises a brow to him, a challenge that Even takes. 

“You know,” He starts, putting down the tongs, wiping his hands on the towel and placing it down on the counter. He steps between Isak’s legs, putting his hands on his thighs and squeezing lightly. Isak’s body almost jerks up at the interaction, chasing the feeling, and Even’s eyes rake over him. He’s so unfiltered, so different from what Isak is used to. Instead of a lingering glare of uncertainty, there’s only one pure emotion that Even wears, and it’s love. “If _you_ were always on the menu, I don’t think I’d ever go hungry.” He says, and despite how lame the remark may have sounded, it just makes Isak’s heart race faster and therefore, Isak wants him to say it again. 

“If you play your cards right.” Isak challenges, a content sigh escaping him before he sips his wine, placing a hand on Even’s shoulders, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Oh, so there's a chance for me?” Even asks, incredulous as always, leaning in toward Isak’s touch. 

“I never said there wasn’t.” 

“And what if I said _you_ need to play your cards right?” He challenges Isak, and it only makes Isak squirm further. Again there’s an odd silence between them, questions that push and answers that remain their own. 

“Then I’d just tell you I’m the master of this game, and you stand no chance.”

“I never stood a chance.” Even repeats, and Isak feels like there’s more that he needs to say, more that Even wants to say, it’s right on the tip of his tongue. Isak wants to pry his mouth open and go searching for it. _Tell me_, he wants to say, _tell me you’re brave enough. _

But Even kisses him hastily on the cheek, and moves away before anything further can be said, and he’s picking up his towel and tongs again, moving across to switch the radio to a different station, and it’s almost like a prank is being played, because the next [song](https://youtu.be/QrT1RfY8VuM) that plays makes them both quiet for more than a few minutes. But it isn’t as stifling as Isak imagined it would be, if he were ever presented with such a moment. 

_I don't want a Christmas I'll forget_   
_Don't want it to be just me_   
_I don't need another pretty gift_   
_I don't even need a tree_

Even sways around as he cooks, and occasionally gives a smile to Isak, who sends one back in return, and Even is humming now, as if he knows the song by heart. Everything he does is with his heart. 

_'Cause all I ever wanted_  
_Was a single dream come true_  
_And darling that's you_  
_No one but you_  
_I only want you_  
  
There’s a loud knock at the door that brings them both out of their stupor, and he casts a wary look to Even. 

“Expecting more company?” Isak asks, trying not to let his disappointment come through. He jumps off the counter, feeling as though his legs have returned to him again. He’s no longer just sitting here admiring Even, there’s still a whole world out there, and now there’s someone intruding on their time. Isak feels oddly selfish, because this is their time, and they’re on a bit of deadline here, so whoever is daring to intrude is about to be met with Isak’s fury, he’s sure of it. 

“No.” Even says with a shake of his head, “Probably carollers, care to join me to the door?” He asked, enticing Isak. 

“If you insist.” And there’s no fury, just passion, because Even’s kindness is intoxicating to the point that Isak finds himself less inclined to anger, and more inclined to the sweetness that seeps from him. 

“Oh, I do.” Even nods, the decision made for Isak, and then he’s taking off his apron and glasses and leaving them behind as he takes Isak by the waist, leading him to the front door, just a step behind him. 

And Isak, he’s ready to be serenaded by a group of strangers while Even holds him, hopes Even kisses him through it, because there’s not a single thing that should stop them. He wants to kiss Even through _everything_ the world hands them, good or bad. In this case, carollers. 

Except its not carollers.

He feels Even stiffen behind him, his arms still around his waist, once he’s opened the door, and Isak takes the brunt of the cold wind that blows in. 

“Merry Christmas Eve!” A couple shouts, and it only takes looking into the woman’s striking blue eyes for Isak to make the connection. Their excitement seems to take a turn at the sight before them, and Even is practically frozen in Isak’s embrace. Their smiles drop, as do their arms, which were previously up and open, inviting, much like how Even is. 

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Even asks hurriedly, sounding as panicked as he looks, and Isak steps into the background, effectively avoiding their stares as Even steps in front of him, welcoming his _parents_ into his home. 

“We thought we’d take a train down and surprise you and Sophie, since you couldn’t make it out to _us_ this year.” The man says, and the woman stays quiet beside him, the two beginning to unwrap their scarves and take off their mittens, placing down the few gift bags they’ve brought with them. The woman stays quiet, and glances towards Isak every other second, looking just as worried as Isak thinks he might. 

He wouldn’t have minded carollers, he wouldn’t have minded _missionaries_, but Even’s _parents_. What is something that goes beyond complicated? Because whatever it is, Even and Isak are _beyond_ beyond complicated, to the point where Isak’s brain is hurting from how far it’s stretching the possibilities of how _complicated_ and completely convoluted this…_recklessly_ passionate and _honest_ thing has become.

Does it borderline insolvable? Unreachable? Is Isak going to regret this? He feels his throat tightening again, and he looks up at the sound of Even’s voice, almost like a pullback into the moment. The suffocation that he felt is gone the minute Even looks at him. 

“Well, it’s a nice surprise. I do wish you’d called, Sophie isn’t here.” Even states, and then his mother sighs. 

“Yes, and you haven’t introduced your guest yet, Even.” She says, scolding him, and Even lets out a strained chuckle, and all of Isak wants to just melt into the wall behind him. 

Even turns to him, eyes searching. Isak doesn’t even realize he’s reached forward to take Even’s hand in his before it’s already happened, their palms pressed together tightly, and the look Even gives him tells Isak he’s found what he’s looking for. 

“This is Isak. Isak, my parents, Jan, and Sigrid.” He introduces his father, who shakes Isak’s hand, and then Even’s mother pulls Isak into a hug. He can see where Even’s tactile side comes from. She holds him at arm's length for a moment, looking him over, then shoots a look to Even, a small gesture of approval as she winks, and Even in return goes nearly red all over, practically matching the colour of his sweater. He scratches the back of his neck nervously, and Isak bites the inside of his cheek from going red all the same. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Isak, if we’d known you’d be here, we’d have gotten a gift for you, too.” She says sweetly, and Isak doesn’t understand how Even has possibly hit the jackpot of life. To have a mother so kind and welcoming, and a father who seems to be less apprehensive and more willing to understand. The love that pours out of them so freely is just like Even.

“Well, we only made plans just yesterday.” Isak shrugs, and Even squeezes his hand, effectively lacing their fingers together even tighter. 

“I apologize for our intrusion, but it smells like _someone_ has been making pinnekjøtt.” Jan laughs, a boisterous sound, and it fills the house with an impossibly bigger warmth that consumes the four of them. 

By the time they’re situated in the kitchen, and Sigrid and Jan have both put on aprons, towels are thrown over their shoulders like Even, Isak feels himself take a step back. 

It’s a subconscious one, but one he feels it all the same. If anything, Isak feels like the intrusion. Here he is, admiring this perfect husband and wife, with their perfect son who Isak wants so, _so_ badly, and here Isak stands out like a sore thumb, painfully aware of his own apprehension, of his omission. Not to mention his impending departure, the fact that in just a few days he’ll be back on a plane and back to his work which consumes his life and his soul. And it’s suffocating again, the tightness in his throat returning with a vengeance at the thought of having to be away from this, and Isak — Isak wants to _cry_. 

He can’t, and he doesn’t, but it’s there, it’s bubbling beneath him like a dam about to burst. He blinks, his eyes feeling dry at the thought. 

“Isak, want to help me set up the dining room?” Even asks with an anxious lilt in his voice, and it pulls Isak from his thoughts and back into the moment, where he remembers he should enjoy this while it lasts, because yes, in a few days he’ll be back home, he’ll be surrounded by Jonas and Claire and music and work, but at least he’ll have his memories. Of Even, standing angelically in front of him, each word he speaks to Isak like a silent prayer.

“Yeah.” He nods, and Even pulls four plates from the cupboard and tells Isak where to grab the utensils before the two of them retreat into the room off to the side. They set up four spots, and when they meet in the middle, Even lets out a shaky sigh and grabs Isak’s arm, like he’s been waiting to get him alone.

“I’m so sorry, I know you don’t want complicated, and the most complicated thing in my life is probably my parents.” He huffs out a loud, anxious laugh, unlike anything Isak’s ever heard before, then continues, “They’re most _definitely_ going to interrogate you, I just need to warn you, and I am so, so sorry for it, Isak. I won’t blame you if you want to go, I’ll help you come up with an excuse.” He says it all so quickly, so rushed and quiet and desperate, and he looks so _unsure_ — and Isak, Isak just gives him a scowl, because, _what_?

He needs to backtrack, quickly, because Even looks _frightened_, his anxiety is apparent, and Isak needs to quickly quell whatever thoughts must be spiralling inside that beautiful head of his. 

“I don’t want to go home.” Isak whispers back a little harsher than he meant to, just as rushed and desperate as Even’s words had been to him, and Even’s face softens. 

“You... don’t?” He asks, and Isak realizes he needs to step up his game a little. Even really thinks that Isak doesn’t want this, that he doesn’t want everything Even can give him. It’s selfish, how much Isak wants to take and take. Isak can’t give it back to him, and when Even realizes that, Isak knows he’ll lose him. But for now, he’s going to take, he’s going to roll. 

“No. I can take some interrogation from your parents if it means I still get to spend Christmas Eve with _you_.” He says, and just like how Even has done to him many times before, Isak brings his hands to cup Even’s cheeks, thumbs brushing against his cheeks so delicately, like he’s afraid that the moment will slip through his fingers if he doesn’t tread carefully. Isak licks his lips, and Even isn’t responding, just staring in stunned silence, so Isak continues. “I don’t know _where_ you got the idea that I’d want to go, but I _don’t_. That’s the last thing I want to do. Okay?” He presses forward, gives him a kiss while they can.

“Okay.” Even is breathless when he responds.

Dinner is served, and with it, Even brings the radio into the room, plugging it into the wall and he relaxes beside Isak, across from his parents. Isak lets himself relax too, for the feeling of Even’s knee against his is just enough to remind him of what he wants right now. Not later, but _now_, in the present, possibly even for the foreseeable future. But he’ll take what he can get for now.

“It’s really coming down out there.” Jan says between a mouthful, looking out the window where the snow is, in fact, coming down out there. 

“Yeah.” Even nods, and now they’ve somehow resigned to discussing the weather, of all things. “Do you… you guys need to stay over?” Even questions, and it sounds like he’s silently begging for them not to. Isak is on his side on this matter, but he doesn’t say it, he eats his dumplings, which melts on his tongue and Isak almost moans. He would’ve, he _knows_ he would’ve let out a sound that would make Even squirm if it was just the two of them, because he knows how it riles up Even whenever Isak praises him.

“Oh, we’re staying at the motel, don’t worry.” Sigrid says, “We wouldn’t intrude _that_ much.” She sends a wink Isak’s way, and he clenches his jaw as he feels his face flush, silently grateful for this woman he’s only just met, because she clearly understands more than she’s letting on. “Your cooking is wonderful, Even. Did you use Mormor’s recipe?” She continues on the conversation, segueing it away and into one that Even is clearly more ecstatic about, for he begins to instantly discuss the intricacies of cutting up the onions. 

He listens as Even talks about his day, dropping Sophie off at her grandparents before he stopped at the grocery store, and for a moment Sigrid lectures him about not going shopping earlier in the week since most of the things that he needed weren’t there, but Even just shrugs. He knows Even couldn’t simply just tell her _you see, I’ve been spending all my free time with Isak, so I couldn’t go shopping earlier_. Because they don’t need to know that. 

He carries on discussing how long it took him to properly get the birch twigs situated in various pots of different sizes, and it’s simply _fascinating_ to Isak, who, if he’d been the one cooking tonight, would’ve ended in flames. Both figuratively and literally, Isak would’ve set the house on fire, he’s sure of it, and he would’ve been so angry with his attempts that he’d combust too. 

But Even handles it all with ease, almost like he’s got the solution to the things that make Isak tread carefully, like he doesn’t _have_ to with Even there. Like the fall won’t hurt, it won’t suffocate him like he’s used to. 

“How’s Sophie’s piano lessons going?” Jan asks once the cooking talk has finally wound down, and Isak’s ears perk up. He’d seen the piano before, the first night he arrived unannounced at Even’s, but he didn’t know Sophie was learning. The information excites him, because now he wants Sophie home so he can play with her, make her as passionate about music as he is. 

He thinks back to that thought for a moment, and the fact he’d just referred to Even’s house as _home_. Even’s voice brings him out of it. 

“Oh, she’s still arguing about it, but then after each lesson, she forces me to just sit and listen to her play hot cross buns a thousand times.” Even laughs and the rest of them follow, because his laugh is contagious like that. 

“You didn’t tell me she’s learning to play.” Isak says, and the table goes momentarily quiet.

“I didn’t? It must not have come up.” Even says back, and Isak gives him a moment to catch up. “Wait, _you_ play, right?” Even connects the dots, and Isak nods, giving Even a fond smile.

“I’m a music composer Even, I’ve been playing since Sophie’s age, maybe even younger, I don’t know.” Isak rambles, and Sigrid claps her hands together before Isak lets the rest of his thoughts spew, such as how badly he’s wanted to play it since then, woo Even with his skills. Even is holding back from kissing him, Isak feels it, if the way he chews on his bottom lip and stares at Isak with that sudden desire tells him anything about it. 

“A music composer! Well, sorry Isak, but you’ve just condemned yourself into playing for us later.” 

Isak lets out a small laugh, but then shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind, I haven’t been able to play anything while I’m here, so it’ll be nice.” He says, and then realizes he should’ve kept that information in.

“While you’re… here?” Jan asks, and both he and Sigrid look at him expectantly. His heart drops into his stomach, and he clears his throat. 

“Yeah, um, I’m from L.A., I’m here on vacation.” Isak states, and suddenly the room feels _too_ hot, and Even is pushing his food around on his plate, looking a little dejected and worrisome, and Isak holds his tongue. 

“Well, that’s nice.” Jan nods, and clicks his tongue, as if a thought just came to mind. “Did you know we tried to get Even into piano too? But he hated it, almost as much as Sophie sounds like she does.”

“Oh?” Isak looks towards Even, and Even rolls his eyes at his father’s words, already over the conversation before it’s begun.

“Yep, couldn’t get him to sit still even for a minute. He liked the piano, but after a month he decided he wanted to try the guitar, then the drums, then the _flute_. The worst was the saxophone—”

“Alright, we can stop telling Isak about all my failed musical endeavours, now.”

“—But you know what he never truly did?” Jan continues without missing a beat, and Even looks towards Isak with a look of disbelief. “He never really _gave up_ on any of it, he was still excited to learn and let himself enjoy things, or not enjoy them, and find the things he loved along the way.”

Even groans again, his face flushed, and Jan and Sigrid chuckle, while Isak has an even harder time now pulling Even in to kiss him. He just wants to touch him, he wants to show him with as few words as possible. What exactly, Isak doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand, but his _feelings_, they’re so strong, like there’s an invisible magnetic pull between Even and him, and the gap that is forced between them at this moment is _unbearable_ to sit through. 

“Okay, I’ll stop talking, as long as Isak tells us more about L.A.” Jan tries, and Isak gives in.

He tells them about Jonas, meeting him and Eva at Nissen where their friendships had come to bloom, which is when Even learns he grew up in Oslo, and that information is so new to him that he’s quiet for almost five minutes before finally joining the conversation again, asking Isak if it was hard to move his whole life onto a new continent. By this time, they’ve finished eating, but they’re simply so willing to sit and listen to Isak speak, that no one makes a move to clean or move on with the night in any way. 

“I mean, of course, there were struggles. I had to learn a whole other language, had to learn the currency, how to drive there, but I wasn’t alone. Jonas had taken many trips there before I ever went, so by the time I got there, it felt more like…like being welcomed into a home you want to be in, rather than one you’ve forced yourself into. Does that make sense?”

He looks towards Even and finds him already staring, mouth agape, and Isak wonders what he possibly could be thinking. 

“Yeah.” Even looks at him for a moment longer, and then he wipes his mouth on his napkin, even though there’s nothing there. “What do you say we leave the dishes and get to Isak tickling the ivories, hmm?” He asks, and his parents cheer in agreement as they begin scooting out of their chairs. 

Isak tries not to make fun of him for calling it that, and instead just laughs. 

And that’s where Isak finds himself less than a minute later, all of them taking their wine with them into the living room, leaving the radio behind in favour of getting_ the real deal,_ as Even says. 

_Tickle those ivories,_ he whispers encouragingly just for Isak, as if it isn’t the most ridiculous thing Isak has ever had whispered in his ear. Somehow it sounds sexy in a way that can only be said because it’s _Even_ saying it, again, as if a second time made it sound any less lame. Isak’s still left flushed, regardless, putting his wine down on the floor beside him.

Sigrid and Jan sit on the sofa, and Even stands by the tree, sifting through the presents but continuously looking towards Isak, like he’s afraid Isak might disappear if he turns his back to him even for a moment. 

Isak pulls out the piano bench and sits down timidly, feeling nervous all of a sudden, like he’s seven again, playing his first Christmas recital, and instead of Even’s parents and _Even_ sitting there watching him, it’s his mother, and she’s giving him supportive nods and a thumbs up, and he readies his hands on top of the keys, and he plays. 

He doesn’t know how long he plays for, but he goes from memory, starting with _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_, which ended in Sigrid and Jan giving him a standing ovation, and demanding him to continue. So then he played_ Let it Snow, The First Noel,_ and ended with _Oh Holy Night. _

By the time he’s finished the last song, Even is dangerously close to him, practically hovering next to him and just observing silently, and Isak could play a whole concerto right now if it meant Even would listen, if he would stay. 

Isak turns to look up at him, and it seems as though Even’s parents have been having a conversation for the past five minutes now, and they aren’t paying attention to the two of them. 

Isak scoots over on the bench, silently begging Even to sit, and Even takes a moment before he slides in next to him, shoulders and thighs pressed together on the little bench. He feels whole again, being this close to Even, only half his body pressed against him, but it’s enough for now. 

“You play beautifully.” Even whispers, and Isak blushes furiously. 

“I could teach you if you want.” He nudges him, gives him a wink. 

“Oh, Isak, I’m _hopeless_ with a piano, my fingers just don’t understand how to do it. Your wisdom would be lost on me.” 

“Well then obviously you haven’t had a good enough teacher.” Isak retorts, and Even stammers. It’s quiet again between them, and for a moment, Isak forgets that Even’s parents are there, because right now, it’s only them, and the sound of the fire crackling, the scent of gingerbread and the bursting rainbow lights that come from the tree. And Isak’s heart, which is beating so heavily against his chest that he almost wants to reach out and press Even’s hands against it and say _here, this is what you do to me, do you understand? Are you brave enough?_

“So... I got you something.” Even starts, and Isak pouts, because he really did want to show Even how to play something. It would’ve been a good excuse to touch him, and to make him smile. 

“When did you even have the _time_, Even? Between Sophie and work and…all the cooking you did today?” He almost says_ and me,_ because Isak’s been spending more time with Even then he’s ever spent with anyone in his whole life. At least it feels that way. Like an eternity. Yet, it’s still not enough, he wants to reach infinity. 

“A man finds time to do the things he wants to do if it matters enough, you know.” He says as if the answer should be obvious, but if anything, it only eludes to the fact that Isak still finds him a mystery, and this mystery is one that Isak finds himself desperate to uncover, reveal all the intricacies. And for once, the mystery looks back at Isak like he wants to do just the same. 

Except, Even’s _always_ been looking at him that way, it’s only now that Isak sees it a bit more clear, and it makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“Anyways, here.” Even breathes out nervously, and Isak notices he’s been holding a small package in his hand this whole time, and he’s waiting for Isak to take it. It’s small, wrapped together in a sparkly gift paper and tied with a bow. 

Isak takes it, and gives Even another roll of his eyes, staring down at the gift in disbelief.

“Are you not going to open it?” Even asks incredulously, and Isak tilts his chin up in a defiant way, holding the present against his beating heart. 

“And give you the satisfaction of my—“

“Just open it, Isak, gosh. I’ve been so nervous about this, the least you can do is indulge me.” Even says playfully, like he’s giving Isak the option to not open it even though Even is so explicitly begging him to, and there’s a hand on his back now, and Isak’s whole being just succumbs, melts completely to Even’s whims. And Isak wants to scream _yes, I’ll indulge in everything you want me to_ but instead, he looks down at the package in his hands and unwraps it without any further bickering. 

And it takes a moment for him to understand exactly _what_ it is, but then he looks towards Even, whose grin is amused and soft, and the knitted maroon beanie in his hands feels weightless.

“I know it’s not much, but I _also_ know you don’t have a hat, and I saw this the other day and... I thought it’d match your eyes really nice.” Even says, his words trailing off as he raises his hand to fix a curl around Isak’s ear, while Isak sits there, dumbfounded, staring at the small, soft article of clothing in his hands. 

“It’s perfect.” Isak says, and then he surges forward and kisses him, because if there’s anything Isak knows he wants in the world, it’s Even’s kisses. It’s a quick one, something to stave off the rest of their desires for a few more short hours spent with Even’s parents, but it’s just enough. “You’re perfect. Thank you.” 

It leaves Even speechless, and in the meantime, Isak puts the hat on, and it fits snug as he expected it to. He fiddles with his hair for a moment, brushing it out of his forehead and hoping the hat landed somewhere on his head that it looks somewhat nice. Even just looks at him for a long moment, a moment too long that Isak just preens over. 

Then Even clears his throat, and his hand leaves Isak’s back, and he just nods solemnly.

“Yeah, good choice on my part.” He says, his voice a little strained, and Isak chuckles as he takes it off, because it’s much too warm in this room to wear a beanie. 

“Matches my eyes, did you say?” He flutters his lashes, but Even just -- he’s speechless again, so Isak nudges him. “Want me to play another song? Maybe teach you something you can teach Sophie?” 

Even nods, and so Isak goes on to teach him _Frosty The Snowman_, and after a while, it seems he’s actually getting the hang of it. Even plays the simple part of the melody, and Isak adds chords alongside it, and Even begins to laugh at how ridiculously easy it is. 

“I was right.” Isak states, and Even looks to him with a curious smile.

“On what accounts?”

“All you needed was a good teacher. You’re a natural.” Isak nudges him, and Even gives him a hum.

“You are too.”

“At what?”

“Just…” He looks apprehensive for a moment, like he’s holding back from diving further. And then, after a moment, he leaps, and he continues, “Just being _you_, Isak. You told me you were going to _try_ and be yourself around me, and somehow I keep finding myself wondering what you’re like when you _aren’t_ yourself, and then that leads me to — other questions.” He stops, and looks back down at the piano, pressing down on one of the keys in succession. It barely makes noise from how soft he presses it. “Like… _who_ led you to believe you _shouldn’t_ be yourself, because you’re pretty great, Isak.” Then he meets Isak’s eyes again, and really, truthfully, there is nothing that exists outside of _them_ at this moment. “Better than great.” 

Even’s parents leave soon after, wanting to get a cab back to the motel before it gets too late, and even though Isak feels almost sad to say goodbye to them, once the door is closed, and he and Even are alone again, he couldn’t be more thrilled. 

There’s _so_ _much_ to talk about now, it seems, but Isak’s brain can’t figure out where to begin and where to end, what should be treated with care and what should be shouted without it. 

“So…that happened.” Even laughs, and before he can make another comment on how _complicated_ this _thing_ between them is getting, because honestly Isak is exhausted when he hears or thinks about it.

Isak strides towards him and closes the gap that’s been taunting them all evening. Their lips meet feverishly, passionately, and Isak is finally able to let out that moan he’s been fending off, and Even lets one out too. _This is how I’ll tell you._

The trip to the bedroom is hasty, almost unbearable the amount of time it takes before they finally make it there, despite the fact that they’re trying to get there so quickly. But they just can’t separate from one another, there’s something about moving away to take a step up the stairs _without_ kissing Even that seems harder to do if he wasn’t. 

Isak takes one look at him once they pull apart to breathe, and it’s all he needs before he’s instantly attaching himself to Even once again, pulling off his ridiculous red turtleneck that’s been keeping him from staring at Even’s neck all night, and fumbling with the buttons on his pants. 

“You always wear these dumb khakis.” Isak grumbles out against Even’s lips, and he’s forced to move away just so he can focus on the buttons, and Even _laughs_.

“You think my khakis are dumb?” He pouts dramatically, and Isak kisses it off his stupidly beautiful face before he can even _think_ that for another _second_ that Isak doesn’t like his khakis. Because if anything, Isak _loves_ his khakis, and he doesn’t use that word lightly on any occasion. Isak would know. Or would he? _God, these buttons. These dumb buttons that I love. _

“Your khakis drive me _wild_, baby.” Isak says, and Even laughs brightly, fingers carding through Isak’s hair as Isak still fumbles with the buttons, and then finally, as if it was always this easy, the buttons come undone and Isak quickly pulls Even away from the door in which they’re currently pushed up against, and they fall to the bed with hands that cling to one another with need. 

There’s no more discussion of Even’s khakis, but Even does comment on how ridiculous Isak is for wearing such tight jeans all the time, and that he should have no grounds or opinion on Even’s choice in khakis, all as he takes his sweet time pulling them off in the agonizing ways that make Isak writhe on the bed, frustrated and telling him to just get on with it already. 

And he does get on with it, after some more persuasion on Isak’s part. All it takes, Isak realizes, is for him to take over, take control, and so he does, and Even lies subjected beneath him, mouth falling open and breathy pants escaping him as Isak kisses and sucks his way down the length of his body, each brush of Even’s hands in his hair enough to make him keep going. 

And tonight, Isak decides, he’s going to take care of Even in all the ways he continuously keeps taking care of Isak. He relishes in the curves of his waist, the prominence of his bony hips that protrude with every arch of his back, and wraps his arms beneath him, bringing him closer and breathing him in. 

He works him open slowly as Even becomes a breathless mess, a beautiful one at that, his moans borderline pornographic and Isak can’t help but want to make him _louder_, make him beg for more. 

He takes his time, despite his body practically vibrating with the urgency to be inside of him already, he takes his time, because right now that's all they have. 

Even deserves it, he deserves the foreplay, and the sweet touches, the small bouts of praise Isak gives him each time he presses his tongue flat alongside his fingers, and each time Even grinds down to meet with his thrusts Isak holds him down, tells him to be patient, and Even _is_. He’s more patient than Isak, that’s apparent, but Isak can tell he’s cracking, that he’s slowly becoming just as demanding and needy as Isak always is. If there’s anyone that deserves to be selfish, it’s Even, but Isak knows that the man he has moaning against his tongue isn’t selfish, not even in the slightest, tiniest ways.

It makes the highs feel even better, the lows are untouchable, because there are no lows when they’re together. It’s _always_ high, leaves Isak floating on a cloud of bliss, and the feeling of Even being there with him, floating alongside him, Isak feels like he could soar up there for a lifetime.

He almost loses his train of thought when he finally sinks inside of Even, the pull and the tightness so tantalizing and making him sweat, his limbs feeling weak as he holds himself up above Even, and Even kisses him, kisses his jaw and his neck, urging Isak to go faster, deeper, to never stop. 

Somehow, he does lose his composure, because Even has rolled him onto his back, and now he’s riding Isak as if his life depends on it, and really, Isak couldn’t be more thankful. The view is _everything_, as Even swivels his hips and plants his hands on Isak’s chest, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy, and Isak clings to him by his thighs like a lifeline, eyes glued to the sights before him, presented to him on a silver platter. 

Isak begins thrusting upwards, and Even just collapses against him, pressing into him shamelessly with need, and Isak lets him, despite how close he is, he wants Even to be first, he craves to watch him let go, to give more when he couldn’t possibly have more to give. 

“Look at me.” Isak pants, pleading, teetering on the edge, and Even lifts his head to meet his eyes, and it’s all he needs to fall off that edge, unable to hold his silent promise to himself to get Even there first. He chases it, as it becomes a little rougher and sloppier but Even just kisses him through it, panting into his mouth and holding him so tightly. 

Even follows soon after, and before Isak knows it, they’re lying in each other's arms, sticky and spent and in that state of soaring bliss that he knows he’ll miss the most. 

Once their breathing evens out, Isak lets his eyes flutter open, unsure of when they even closed, to find Even admiring him, eyes wide and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, stuck up in different spots. 

He feels like he’s dreaming, staring into the abyss of blue that is Even’s eyes, and he almost wants to pinch himself. Even looks like he wants to say something, and for a long minute, Isak silently asks him _what_. 

_Just say it. Be selfish. Take what you want. What is it that you want? _

_If you said it right now, I think I could give it to you. Be brave. _

Even settles next to him, no words spoken between them, quietly shifting himself comfortably in Isak’s arms.

But it feels different, cuddling him into this specific night, for Isak realizes that Even has etched his way right into Isak’s heart, settled into his soul. He’s being held in Isak’s arms, but he occupies his heart, he’s filling the void that’s been so long forgotten, so long denied. 

Isak holds him impossibly closer, making the space between them nonexistent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left!!!! once this is done, I was thinking of writing an epilogue...but we'll see !! <3 
> 
> come hmu on tumblr @ peachyisak.  
thank you for reading!! kudos & comments always appreciated! 
> 
> xo kris


	4. to love you in our own language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first: sorry about posting this a day late, school got in the way of me writing this ending!
> 
> second: if you havent noticed, i added another chap to this - it will be a mix of Even's POV of certain scenes (including ones not in Isak's POV), and then a little extra epilogue ;) but -- i cannot promise when ill get it out, hopefully before the new year! im done my semester on the 9th! 
> 
> third: sending my love to james, who beta'd this for me, AND helped me with this chapter title. <3 
> 
> fourth: [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/702QNWxQavrFzgqjWAopEy) is the official playlist for this fic! enjoy! <3
> 
> (scroll to bottom for a tw, also a spoiler)
> 
> enjoy this 14k angst & fluff fest! thank you for reading

Isak hears the subtle vibrations coming from the corner of the room, where their clothes had been piled after being thrown off one another, and he just _ knows _ it’s his phone. The notifications don’t _ stop _, and eventually, it makes him restless enough to roll over and open his eyes. It must be Claire, or Jonas, or even Eva if she’s desperate enough to reach out to him over text. Whoever it is, they seem to be relentlessly messaging him. 

Even had detached himself in the night, and was now sleeping soundly beside him, unaffected by Isak’s movements. For once, it seems Isak is awake before him, and he understands why. The sun isn’t even up yet, there’s a quietness to the house at this time like no other. 

It takes a minute, but he finally finds his phone amongst the messy pile of clothing and opens it as he climbs back into the bed as fast as he can, craving the warmth and the invulnerability he feels while lying there next to him. He cuddles close to him, only enough to still hear Even’s settled and sleeping breathing and feel the warmth that radiates off of him. 

**______________________**

**DONT TEXT**

_ Christmas isn’t the same without you _

_ My parents are pissed at me now _

_ I wish you’d answer my calls _

_ I just want to talk to you _

_ I really miss you, Isak _

_ I love you _

If you ever actually loved me

Then you would leave me alone

Please, stop messaging me. 

**______________________**

Isak decides at that moment he's had enough. 

He blocks Adam’s number and throws the phone away, listening as it falls onto the floor with a vengeful thump that makes him feel better, and turns to look at Even, who seems to have woken up from the commotion. 

He’s looking up at Isak with a bemused smirk, a tired one at that, and he opens his arms, raises the duvet, just enough for Isak to take his place in his arms, curling into him happily, trying not to look _too_ overexcited at the gesture. They settle into one another, Isak throwing a leg over Even and Even wrapping an arm around his back to properly tangle into one another. He presses his cold fingers against Even’s chest, and even though he winces a little, he lets him, because he knows Isak likes to warm up against him. 

It’s Saturday now, and Sophie is at her grandparents again. They have nowhere in the world to be except here. They have nothing to worry about except for the next passing minute. 

Even holds him tight, still half-asleep, and he looks so soft and dreamy as the warm light from the sun begins to seep through the curtains, illuminating them and waking them to reality. 

Isak is leaving in one day, and he wishes he never had to. 

He lets himself stay in this dream-like state for a moment, as Even’s eyes flutter closed, he raises a hand to trace the side of his face, the undercut of his jaw, across the lobe of his ear. Across his cheekbone, down to his lips, over the curve of his nose and upwards through his brows, which soften at the touch there, almost like Isak was unwinding him this whole time. 

Isak is leaving in one day and he wants to stay in this bed forever, in the warmth of Even, outlining every inch of him that he enjoys so much. 

The past few days have been spent in a blissful state, spending his days lounging around his house, and Even would pick him up to take him home for dinner and a night spent with Sophie, doing her homework despite being on winter break. He'd gotten her to sit with him at the piano, and taught her a song other than _ Hot Cross Buns _. Even was thankful. 

“You’re awake before me.” Even speaks slowly, his voice strained and tired, and it’s so fucking gorgeous. Isak decides quickly that he finds Even’s morning voice irresistible, as if he ever expected it to be anything but. He leaves his hand hovering on Even’s cheek, letting his fingers draw small circles there and Even looks as if he's thoroughly enjoying it, so who is Isak to stop?

“I am.” Isak whispers, leaning forward to plant kisses on his neck and chest, whatever exposed skin he can possibly get to. 

“This is nice.” He mumbles, "You are so nice." 

“Something you could get used to?” Isak teases and then regrets, because Even gives him a long, cold stare, as if his blunt declarations of love for Isak wasn’t any less obvious. As if every little action wasn’t enough. As if the way he was staring at Isak right now, as if he can see right through him, wasn't enough. And he can. He sees through Isak like nobody ever has, like nobody ever will. 

“If you’d let me.” Even says, and then kisses him, because he knows Isak won’t respond any time soon to that. He doesn’t know _ how _ long they lie there, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, kissing lazily and with purpose, as Even lays his love on him, as Isak selfishly lets him. Eventually, they do get out of bed, Even first, and Isak follows as soon as he’s able, his head spinning. 

“Do you want to come by Sonja’s with me today? Spend the night there instead of here?” Isak asks as he pulls himself up on the counter in Even’s kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hands, Even’s vanilla-scented quilt around his shoulders, watching as Even pulls out ingredients and a pan to make pancakes for them. It's not too cold that he needs the blanket, but Even seems to enjoy seeing Isak wrapped up in it, so he keeps it held tight with one hand. 

“Sure.” He says, and stops just to give him a kiss on the cheek, making Isak’s cheeks flush. 

“I have to pack, make sure I’ve got all my stuff in order, my ticket, flight number, passport, maybe I’ll call a cab ahead of time so I don't forget.” He lists, and then sighs, “And we should order in. We should get pizza and just fuck _ all _ night.” Isak says with a devious grin that makes Even bark out a laugh, winking towards Isak.

“Sounds like a plan.” He nods, but there’s something in his smile that makes Isak’s heart twinge in pain, and he wonders if Even’s heart is feeling that unbearably sharp pinch, too. 

Making pancakes is disastrous because Even is a good chef, but a messy one, as evident in every other time he’s cooked for Isak before. There are flour _and_ milk spilled on the counter, splatters of batter across the stove that will remain there for who knows how long, blueberries scattered out of their container across the counter, a few teetering close to the edge. Neither of them care, sitting side by side at the table, chairs pushed together, ankles locked, shoving pancakes at one another with sounds of light laughs emanating from them, a sweet, quiet bubble that is theirs, that doesn't have to burst anytime soon. 

Maple syrup gets involved, and Even tastes infinitely sweeter, if it’s possible, his sticky hands squeezing Isak’s cheek in an attempt to rile him up even more as if that’s necessary. 

Even ends up spreading Isak out across the table, and Isak lets him, pushing away the plates so he can lie back. Even’s mouth stretches over him, enveloping him in a tight heat and Isak is embarrassed at how long he doesn't last, hands coiled around the tablecloth, Even’s hands squeezed on his thighs as he moans around him, sending vibrations all through Isak. 

Even is sweet, because he pops off of him after and meets Isak’s mouth with hunger. Isak can taste himself, along with remnants of blueberries and syrup, and he whines with how much that turns him on, with how he yearns to taste this _forever_. This freedom, this mouthwatering _pleasure_. 

He leaves Even’s house with a silent goodbye because he doesn't know when he’ll ever step in here again. If he ever will. The bittersweet end is staring Isak right in the face, and he ignores it, he fends off the suffocation, stores it away for later.

Even just takes his hand, opens the car door for him like the gentleman he is, and kisses him on the cheek once he’s in the car too. He sings along to the Christmas carols on the radio even though Christmas has passed, and Isak has to hold himself back from kissing him senseless. He’s so ridiculously infatuating no matter the situation. 

Even pours them some wine once they get set up on the couch, both dressed in comfy clothes and blankets sprawled around them, Freya lounging close by. Even got a fire going, and Isak chose the movie. 

“I think we need some of this tonight.” He says as he gives Isak his glass, and Isak agrees. He can’t be sober for this. He _wants to_ be, but he _can’t_. 

They follow through with Isak’s plan, order a pizza and wait almost two hours for it to arrive. Isak forgets about packing, forgets about everything, because he’s squished up against Even, whose currently playing with his hair, the other hand petting a sleeping Freya, and they’re watching _ Jack Frost_. 

**Jack Frost - dir. Troy Miller**

_ Ever dabble in the harmonica, Isak? It’s quite the magical instrument ;) _

It’s of Isak’s favourite Christmas movies, and Jonas actually went to get a harmonica after Isak watched it with him, inspired by Michael Keaton’s impeccable talent. A part of the reason has to do with how charming Keaton is in his role, but Isak doesn’t say that. He doesn't tell Even it’s his favourite, but he thinks Even knows, anyways. 

When the movie ends and the credits roll, Isak looks up to find Even crying, his eyes and cheeks wet with tears, his eyes shining so bright with them, and his bottom lip quivers. Isak squeezes against him, wanting to comfort him any way he can. 

“That ending _ always _ gets me.” He complains, his voice sounding sobered and vulnerable, and moves over to grab a tissue from the side table, sniffing along the way and letting out a groan of discontent.

“You are just one big softie, aren't you?” Isak laughs as Even shoves him playfully, a pout on his face but he’s trying not to smile, a red tint on his cheeks from the comment, and the half bottle of wine they've shared. Even makes no comment back, no condescending joke about Isak’s lack of tears, and Isak is grateful for it. He’s heard it enough times. 

Isak shoves back, but Even grabs him and quickly kisses him, pushing him back against the couch and seemingly giving Isak all he’s got to offer. 

“Even.” Isak pants as he feels his hands, desperate and rough tugging at his shirt. “_Even._” He repeats a little stronger this time, and Even stops, looking at him so intensely Isak thinks he might just die right here. 

“Yeah?” He asks, waiting.

He’s always so patient. 

“Make love to me.” Isak whispers, and the way Even looks at him almost makes him cry. 

Almost. 

It doesn’t though. There are no tears left in Isak's whole being, he knows it. Not even Even can make him cry. But the feeling is there, it’s a foreign one, similar to what he felt the night in Even’s kitchen on Christmas Eve, like a dam about to burst. 

The fire is dying out as Even stands, taking Isak's hand and Isak leads them to the bedroom. They stand at the end of the bed just looking at one another, soaking up the image of one another fully-clothed. They’re soaking up the presence of one another, the closeness they get to feel. It’s more intimate than the actual act itself, and Isak for one could stand here for the rest of his _life_. Even stares at him, waiting for Isak to make the first move. He looks nervous, and Isak thinks he might look the same. 

Isak slowly pulls off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor beside him, and Even follows. Then Isak unbuckles his jeans, sliding them off in a fluid motion, and Even follows, their eyes never leaving one another. And then they stand there again, eyes raking each other’s bodies, and Isak’s hands flinch, wanting to touch him. _ Slow, _ he thinks. _ He likes it slow. _

He moves Even to lie back on the bed, and Even's eyes never leave his. Isak takes his time, kissing up Even's body with soft, slow presses of his lips, blinking up at him and watching Even melt beneath him, any nerves they had completely dissipating, their eyes both filled with wonder. 

He mesmerizes every curve, every little muscle spasm, every freckle and mole that Even has. Even looks at him in such adoration, with such a raw, vulnerable emotion that Isak knows is love. Pure, unfiltered, unashamed, _ love. _

Once Isak reaches his neck, Even flips them over in a single, power-hungry move and Isak lets him, his body flushing under Even’s gaze and his pressed fingers. 

Isak is used to Even’s ways now, how he slowly opens up Isak with his mouth and fingers, his tongue tasting every inch of him with fervour, devouring him from the inside out. Isak’s back arches off the bed, his hands fisted in Even’s hair, his legs spread and resting on Even's shoulders, and he thinks it must be painful from how hard he tugs, but Even doesn’t protest, if anything, he makes his strokes and his movements more deliberate, as if he’s silently pleading to Isak to keep going, pull harder, keep taking. 

And Isak -- Isak takes everything Even is giving him, and he hopes he can give it back, at least for tonight. He will try. 

He’s not sure what _making love_ is supposed to look like, or feel like exactly, but Isak knows _ something _ has shifted, and it’s buried _ so _ deep in him that he doesn’t have the time to pry it out properly, let it float to the surface after months of internal debates and thoughts that spiral. 

He lets it go, lets the feeling penetrate the surface as Even moves up to kiss him, _so_ _passionately_, and fulfills every single one of Isak's darkest, deepest wants. 

Even makes love to him. And Isak makes love to Even. 

The sun rises and with it, Isak, who wakes slowly from the feeling of Even’s hands in his hair, combing through the curly knots slowly and delicately. He keeps his eyes closed for as long as he can, trying to fight the growing queasy ache in his stomach, the lump in his throat, the ghosting suffocation that looms. 

He lets his eyes open slowly, takes in his surroundings, and saves them to memory. Even is lying beside him, looking at him with an unreadable expression, his eyes glued to Isak’s features. Isak smirks, and Even smiles, barring his teeth that Isak enjoys too much. 

They’re both very much naked, their legs and arms still tightly wound. Isak looks over his features, at the hickey -- no, _ love bite _ he’d given Even on his collarbone last night. He didn’t want to hurt him, the colours are flush pink and barely visible, still starkly contrasted to Even’s pale, soft skin that Isak wishes he could touch forever. 

He runs a few light fingers across it, silently wishing he’d left more of a mark on him, something deep and purple that will take _weeks_ to heal. Even lets out a sigh, his hand coming to rest near the bottom of Isak’s neck, where Even had left a love bite on Isak, the two of them staring at one another’s pinkened skin with awe. Isak blinks up at him, and Even meets his eyes, and for a quiet, long moment, he seems to be searching, questions building behind his stare. 

“Breakfast?” Even asks, and Isak nods, wondering if that was the only question on his mind. Even shifts a little closer, brushes their noses together, and the tip of his nose is cold. Isak wants to kiss it, warm it up, but Even begins speaking again before he can, a hand coming to rest on Isak’s cheek. The words he speaks make Isak’s heart sink. "What time does your flight leave?” 

“Noon.” Isak responds, sounding detached from the fact, hoping Even doesn’t ask any more _leaving_-related questions, and Even nods solemnly. 

“Alright, well, get up, you still need to pack.” He moves forward and kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose, and then he licks his lips before kissing Isak. He moves his lips slowly, carefully, almost fragile in nature, as if they’re both expecting the other to break. 

Isak savours every press of his lips, every swipe of his tongue and teeth, hands finding their way around Even’s back, pulling him in closer, pulling Even onto his lap, hands resting on his thighs once Even is properly straddling him, pressing their chests together.

They stay there, exchanging lazy kisses and small sounds of desperation, but neither move to make it more, neither want to do anything but kiss one another, wrapped up in eachother. 

“Do you want to shower?” Even breathes out, peppering a few kisses along Isak’s jaw before moving back to look at him. “I can go make breakfast--”

“Join me in the shower.” Isak says before he can stop himself, and why would he ever stop himself from asking Even this, why has he been having showers _alone_ this whole trip? 

Even joins him in the shower, and Isak didn’t know it was possible for someone to look _ this _beautiful sanding under streams of steamy water. 

They stand looking at each other for a moment before Even bursts out laughing, stepping forward to put his hands on Isak’s waist. 

“What’s so funny?” Isak asks, squinting at him under the water, nose scrunched up as he tries not to get too much water in his eyes, and Even kisses him quick. 

“Turn around.” He whispers instead, and Isak shudders, his breath escaping him as he does so eagerly, Even’s hands falling away. 

He hears Even uncap a bottle, and before he can look back, he feels his hands again, but this time Even’s fingers are tangled in his hair, pressing and massaging soap there. Isak moans at the touch, head falling back and Even chuckles. Isak can feel him, his head almost falling onto his shoulder with how close he is. He lets the sounds fall from his mouth unfilterted, too lost int he sensation. Even moves forward to kiss his cheek, and Isak flushes, effectively bringing him out of his trance. He lets Even maneuver them around until Isak can wash the suds out of his hair, and then Isak looks toward him, Even’s hand rested on his hip again. 

“Let me do you.” Isak says, and Even smirks, narrowing his eyes and huffing out a chuckle. 

“Anytime.” He responds, tilting his head to the side in a charming manner, and Isak scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he laughs and kisses the back of Even’s shoulder once he’s turned. He pours some of the lavender-scented shampoo in his hand and makes quick work of rubbing his hands together before letting his fingers press deep into Even’s hair, the darkened honeyed locks that Isak will miss pulling on. He’s being as gentle as he can be, try to give Even the same feeling he’d given Isak. 

Even makes a bit of a show for Isak, too, letting his head fall and biting his lip, slowly letting his mouth fall open as Isak’s hands begin to travel down, over his neck, continuing to massage. 

Across the span of his shoulders, down his back, pressing kisses along his spine as his hands press onto Even’s hips, and Even turns, pulling Isak back up to kiss him, hands cradling Isak’s cheeks. 

Isak makes sure Even’s got all the soap washed out of his hair before he pulls away from him, and Even lets out a shaky sigh as Isak presses him back against the cold tiled wall and slowly lets his hands trail down Even’s chest, across his abdomen and feel Even shudder under his touch. 

He sinks to his knees, kisses the insides of Even’s thighs as his hands spread them apart, and Even’s moan echoes across the shower. Isak tastes him for the first time this morning, hoping it won’t be the last. He doesn’t know if it is, but he doesn’t think about that, eyes glued to the sight before him, of Even towered over him, head back against the wall, his lips parted as heavy breaths escape him. 

Isak closes his eyes for just a moment, to savour the feeling of him on his tongue, the heavy pressure in his jaw, hands squeezing Even’s thighs and revelling in each little shudder he produces.

Even’s hand comes to hold the back of Isak’s head, and Isak presses back against his hand quickly, the action causing Even to look down at him, eyes wide and bright, looking for the affirmation that Isak is giving him, begging him to take over, do it however he pleases, for as long as he wants. Isak’s knees ache already, pressed down on the tiles beneath him, but he’d stay in this position for eternity. 

It’s not an eternity, and Even returns the favour quickly after, turning off the shower, towelling himself and Isak quickly, pressing kisses along his skin as he goes. He pulls Isak over to the bed hastily, grinning as he lays Isak back and has his way with him there, mouth and fingers at work. 

Isak lies on the bed breathless for minutes after. His head spins, his body feeling as though it's floating into the ether. Even kisses him, star-like tingles follow with each press of his lips and Isak curls closer. 

He meets Even’s eyes after another minute, and they both let out a sigh, then give each other silly grins, mindless to everything except one another. 

“I’ll go make breakfast.” Even says as he sits up, and Isak nods. 

“I don’t know about _ you_, but I just had breakfast.” Isak remarks quietly as he turns over into Even’s pillow, trying to pull up the blankets. 

“Isak, you can’t go back to sleep,” Even chuckles as he pulls on sweats and a white tee, his hair falling down across his forehead. He looks so sweet, so fresh and soft. Isak is compelled to opening his arms, hoping Even will just climb in next to him. “_Baby_,” Even whispers softly, coming to sit by him as he pulls on a pair of woollen socks, and Isak shoots his eyes open, effectively giving Even a pout. “I’ll make coffee, and eggs, bacon too.” He leans forward, kisses his forehead and then stands up and begins walking towards the door. “Pack your things, and meet me downstairs in twenty.”

Isak gets up the moment the door closes, throwing everything into the luggage in haste. He hadn’t properly organized all of his belongings, so he, unfortunately, has to focus on that for a few minutes, pacing the room as he packs his carry-on, the smell of bacon and coffee fuelling him to do it faster so he can spend as much time as he can with Even before he has to go. 

Even has breakfast ready when he enters the kitchen, and he’s trying to get Freya off the counter. She’s so accustomed to that spot now that she keeps hissing every time he tries to lift her. He looks agonized, like the act of her defying him is unnatural. He looks at Isak in bewilderment, silently asking for help.

“Just leave her, come sit with me.” Isak whines and Even just shrugs with a laugh, letting himself get pulled away with ease.

“Sonja doesn’t like her on the counters, you’re spoiling her.” Even shakes his head, but his smile speaks volumes. It speaks of love. 

“Sonja isn’t here, c'mon.” Isak chuckles and forces Even to sit, agreeing with himself to not let Even _or_ Sonja know that he’s let Freya sit on the counters this whole time. He didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to, and the fact that she's been doing it this whole time, as if that spot on the counter is dedicated to her, makes him laugh. 

Isak takes his seat across from him and locks their ankles for good measure like they’re used to. He wants to sit next to him, but he’s afraid he might just kiss him until he has to go, sink to the kitchen tiles and bend over the counters, but he wants to make sure he gets some more of _ Even _ in, every charming bit of him. He’s going to soak up _ all _ of this, he’s going to savour each sickly sweet minute that passes.

Even fills the silence, telling Isak about one of his student’s art projects. 

“It was just a shading practice piece, that’s all, and he comes in with this _ butt _ he’s drawn, and it’s so detailed and shaded, and he looks so proud of it. I told them to draw an object, like a lamp for example, and he comes in with this detailed picture of an _ ass.” _Even laughs, and Isak does too, resting his cheek on his hand and staring at Even unapologetically. He won’t let himself look away, especially not today, not even when Even makes him blush. And so far, it seems to be Isak making Even blush this morning, seemingly surprised with how much attention he’s being given. 

_ You deserve it. You deserve everything I can’t give you. _

Even has so far fulfilled Isak in every possible way. Even made _ love _ to him last night, and Isak squirms, because he can almost still feel him, pressing into him so deliciously and slowly, every kiss and touch gave with love. He blushes at the fact that he made _ love _ to Even too, he kissed him lovingly and held him so close that they became one. They’ve travelled beyond the stars, they’ve surpassed the galaxies, and last night, Isak swears he could taste infinity. 

“Why does this sound like something _ you _ did as a teenager?” Isak asks as he shakes his head of his thoughts, focusing back on Even who flushes and fiddles nervously with his fork at his words. 

“Maybe it is. But now you’ll never know, will you?” He teases, bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement, "I mean, you can ask, and I will tell you. I _could_ show you all my drawings from high school. Although, they’re not as good as what I do _ now _.” 

“Have you drawn me?” Isak asks, and Even flushes even more, looking like a deer in headlights. “You have! When? You didn't tell me...”

“You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you, and you were the perfect model.” He nods, and then hides behind his coffee cup. Isak doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he _ knows_, he was half-awake when Even was drawing him, thinking he was being coy about it. The sounds of him drawing is still reminiscent in Isak’s mind, like a lullaby on repeat. He wishes he could rewind to that morning and live through it again. 

“I composed some music about you,” Isak tells him and Even puts down the cup, a look of shock taking over his features. He looks so lovely. “I don’t know if I told you this, but I had promised Jonas I wouldn’t do any work while I was here, and that day at the cafe when you came in with Sophie was when I caved.”

“You were here for like, two days at that point, and you already caved to do work?” Even laughs at him, and Isak rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m committed to my work like that.” He sucks in a breath, waiting for another teasing comment from Even, but when it doesn’t come, Isak understands Even is just waiting for him to continue, so he does. “A few days later, I was just lounging around here and I was just trying to get some inspiration, and then suddenly... I was invested in making music that would go along to a movie trailer about _ you _.”

“Oh? And what would that sound like, exactly?” He asks, flirty and playful, but there’s something else to his voice, to his eyes. He looks positively enamoured at the fact, and Isak thinks he must mirror his expression right now. 

“It would be... light and airy, but... full of _ passion_, and it would make you smile even if it sounds ‘quirky’ at times,” Isak responds, using air quotes. Even looks baffled, but he’s smiling so wide it makes Isak ramble to his heart’s content. “It’d be the kind of song you play over and over again to chase the feeling of the first time listening to it. It would fit over anything you do during the day: when you’re cooking dinner or doing homework with Sophie…but, it wouldn’t make it feel mundane. All these tasks would feel _ special_ still, as if... no matter what you’re doing at that moment, it’d still be... _extraordinary." _Isak finishes, and then sighs, "Just like you.”

Even's gaze is heavy, and for a long moment, he just looks at Isak, who in return begins to feel a bubble of nerves come up, unsure if how he’s described it was too much. Then Even pushes his chair back and stands, steps towards Isak, hands coming to rest on his cheeks and kiss him exactly how Isak was hoping he would. 

Full of _ hope, _unending passion, but most importantly, full of love. 

While Even cleans the breakfast plates and pans, Isak calls a cab and then heads upstairs, hastily pulling his luggage down the steps, letting it thump down each one, as if it too is protesting Isak leaving. He huffs once it’s at the bottom, looking at it like it’s personally offended him, but his anger dissipates once he notices Even, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer, staring at the offending luggage with an unreadable, almost blank, expression.

“Okay,” Isak states, and Even’s eyes shoot up to meet his, that blank stare still on his face, as if he’s trying to process this. “We’re not going to make this a bigger deal than it already is.” Isak tries, shuffling on his coat and boots, the weight of them feeling even heavier this morning. He reaches for the maroon beanie, and snugs it tightly over his ears, looking at Even and waiting for him to speak. 

“No, we’re not.” Even nods solemnly and bites his lip, making Isak’s heart pound relentlessly in his chest. 

“It’s not like we’re...never going to speak again...We’ll call, or email, or something.” Isak lists, rambling off all the ways they could communicate, keep in touch despite the miles between them, and Even keeps nodding as if the words Isak’s so desperately trying to get out are foreign to him, and he’s trying to understand. “Right?” His voice comes out distant, and he bites his cheek. 

“No set rules, no expectations.” He breathes out, and Isak nods back silently. He doesn’t know why he feels so disconnected from this moment, as if his brain is trying to evade him from actually doing it. From leaving like he is supposed to, like he _ is_. 

Isak’s cab makes itself aware when a loud honk comes from outside, and it pulls neither of their attention. Isak can’t stop staring at Even, and Even can’t stop staring at Isak, a heavy gaze locked between them. 

“Okay. I…I’m going to kiss you, for the millionth time.” Isak says, and then he doesn’t know who moves first, but they meet in the middle. 

Even kisses him recklessly, as if it’s the last time he ever will. Isak hopes it won't be, but he kisses him back just as much. It feels like it could be. It feels like it is. 

And Isak can’t pull away, even after Even tries the first time, and the second, Isak just pulls him in again. His arms are wrapped so tightly around Even’s neck, and Even’s hands keep pressing into his sides, their lips slotting together so feverishly, so passionately. It's a kiss of everything that's gone unspoken, it's a kiss _goodbye_. 

So far, Isak thinks, this must be his favourite kiss yet. It’s a kiss of pure love, and he wants to savour it for as long as he possibly can. 

When they finally, reluctantly, separate themselves from one another, they’re breathless. Their hands linger, and slowly they drop them to their sides, looking at one another, looking as though they both have more to say, but neither _say_ anything. 

Even raises his hand and adjusts Isak’s hat, giving him a gentle smile as he places his hand on his cheek as he’s done a thousand times before, brushing his thumb over his cheek and lips. It’s the last time he may ever be _touched_ like this, the last time he’ll ever be _ looked _ at like this_. _ When he drops his hand, the touch lingers, burning itself into Isak’s core.

“And…I’ll be seeing you.” Isak whispers, and Even gives him one small, curt nod, his movements stilted, calculated, unlike himself.

“Take care of yourself, Isak.” Even whispers, and reaches forward for the door handle, opening up the door just as Isak lifts his luggage. 

He steps through the door and walks to the cab, his legs feeling weak. The cab driver gets out to open the trunk and helps Isak place his luggage in, and then opens the door for him. Isak gets in, and he doesn’t look back, he doesn’t even _ dare _ to spare one glance towards Even, who hasn't closed the door yet and is standing outside on the porch, watching Isak go. 

The car starts and drives away with Isak still in it. 

It’s quiet for the first few minutes, Isak just takes to staring out at the houses they pass by, and slowly the trees take over, the long winding road ahead of them. He doesn’t take them in, he just stares, and it almost feels like an out of body experience for him. This feels like someone else’s life, someone who’s leaving the best thing they’ve ever had behind. He feels sorry for whoever it is, wants to scream at them for being so stupid. 

“Have a good holiday?” The driver asks, interrupting him from his thoughts, and Isak recognizes him as the same one from a few weeks ago. _ Can’t drive further my ass, _ Isak holds back a scowl. 

“Yeah.” He nods, resting his head against the window with a sigh, “Maybe the best ever.” 

The wind makes the trees blow around and it almost looks as if they’re bidding him farewell, too. He decides he can’t look outside anymore, so he looks at his phone, rifles through his bag, looks at his phone again, at his passport and plane ticket, and sighs heavily. 

_ “Welcome back to Isak Valtersen’s life!” _ The announcer’s voice shouts in his head, almost as if it somehow got a hold of a _ megaphone _ — and suddenly — Isak can’t breathe. 

He can’t fucking breathe. 

It starts small, the tightening in his throat, and he begins to feel with each breath he takes the ache that pushes through his chest. The suffocation is beginning, just like how he expected it would. Except for this time, it seems to be bringing out the big guns, not holding back. He starts to sweat, only a little, and quickly decides he must be too hot in his coat. He takes it off quickly, then his scarf, the beanie being the last thing he takes off, putting it in his lap and running his hands over it reassuringly as if the hat might turn to dust. 

He rolls the window down, trying to breathe in the cool air, unsure of why he’s hyperventilating in the back seat of a cab. His face is twitching a little, and he’s so overly uncomfortable he can’t help but start to fan himself. 

“Is the heat all the way up?” Isak asks quickly, patting at his forehead with his sleeve, wiping away the cold sweat there. He notices his hands are shaking now, and recognizing that is all it took for them to start shaking even _ more_, for his breath to become more ragged than it already is. He feels like he’s _ wheezing, _ and he_ is_. 

“Sorry, I can turn it down.”

“Actually, can you just... pull over for a second?” Isak asks desperately, sounding breathless, but trying not to sound too urgent. 

Once the car is parked he gets out and heaves a deep breath of the cold, frigid air, feeling it make a place deep in his lungs, but it doesn’t help one bit. He tries a breathing exercise, but the more he tries to concentrate on taking a simple breath, the more it _ hurts_. The more his body and mind seem to link, the determination to suffocate him becomes stronger. 

He doesn't even realize it's happening until he feels a small tear track down his cheek, the wind that whips around him making it freeze on his skin. It freezes him to his core like an icicle stabbing through him. He gasps, and it’s as if the recognition of it falling from his eyes clicks something in his brain, or _unlocks_ it, better yet. 

His vision goes blurry as his eyes well with tears. 

“What am I doing?” Isak asks, not to anyone in particular, just as a sob fall from his mouth, and he brings a hand there, clamping it shut. _ What? _

He tries to think, tries to rationalize why he’s caught himself so suddenly in the freezing cold, sweating like it’s the middle of summer in L.A., _ why _ it suddenly feels like the world is shifting on its axis, the trees are tilting and the sky is beneath him. 

Maybe it’s homesickness. But he feels that all the time. He’s used to that dull ache in the pit of his stomach that pulls him back to Norway, or apparently, back to L.A., but just the mere _ thought _ of being back there makes him more uneasy than he’s ever been. He has to hold back from retching up his breakfast right then.

Maybe, he misses his work. He _ must _ miss work. 

Thinking about it nearly makes his head explode, the thought of being cramped up in a studio for all hours of the day, letting the precious time of his life slip through his fingers so nonchalantly. His throat closes up, even more, preventing the sobs from falling, but Isak can still feel them, bubbling in his chest, and it’s taking _ all _ of him to hold them in. 

His thoughts spiral and he thinks of Jonas, Eva, Claire, of Arthur, the neighbour he didn’t even know he had but Sonja has filled him in enough now that he considers him a friend.

The second Even crosses his mind it feels like a release. 

His head falls back as he inhales deeply, finally, squinting up at the sunny, clear day, as the realization hits him hard. 

He’s not seeing the sky anymore, he’s looking straight into the blue abyss of Even’s eyes. 

A sob falls, cracking through him like an iceberg emerging from a cold, dark depth. He’s dizzy with the thought that consumes him now, overpowering and unrelenting, the blues in the sky so, _ so _ bright. 

_ Isak loves Even. _

The dam that’s been threatening to burst breaks, and Isak is crying now, fully sobbing in the middle of the road as he sweats in the cold air, unable to catch his breathing. It hurts, it hurts so bad, his heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his chest, crawl up his throat -- and it _ is _ there, he realizes, his heart is caught in his throat and that’s why he can't breathe. He must look maddening, he _ feels _ maddening. 

“Can you turn around?” Isak asks, his voice breaking, to the driver, and though he gives a heavy sigh, he nods. 

“You forget something?” He asks, sounding displeased, as if he wasn’t just watching Isak’s meltdown moments ago. Isak could give less of a fuck. 

“Yes.” He nods desperately and dives back into the car, absently reaching for the beanie and clutching it in his hands. “Can you go a little faster?” Isak asks after barely a minute of driving, and the driver glares at him in the mirror, but his gaze is a little softer now as if he is worried Isak might explode in the back seat of his car. And fuck it, he just _ might _ explode if he doesn’t drive faster. 

“These roads are a little tricky.” He says, and Isak shakes his head at the familiar excuse this particular driver seems to keep giving him. 

“Just pull over, I-I’ll run the rest of the way.” 

“But—“

“Make your way to the house and I’ll meet you there.” Isak says, and then he’s opening the car door and closing it behind him as he runs, almost slipping a few times in the snow but he doesn’t care, his face is wet with tears and his smile is threatening to rip him apart. His legs move as fast as he can make them, his calves are burning, his lungs sear and soar with every breath he takes. His heart is pounding, but he doesn't stop, not even for a second. He feels _so_ _stupid_. He feels invincible.

He stops for a moment, bending over and holding his knees and sucking in quick, sharp breaths because he _ really _ doesn’t exercise this much. Then he continues, running full speed ahead, his mind blank except for one recurring thought. 

_ I need to get back to Even. _

_ Even. _

_ I love him. _

_ I love him so much. _

He pushes the gate open, hearing it jingle behind him, and runs to the door. It’s unlocked, and he opens the door to Sonja’s cottage with a heaving breath, relieved. _ I made it. _

He steps into the house, wet, snowy shoes and all, and breathes, his hard breathes echoing through the quiet home.

“Even?” He calls out, walking towards the kitchen. 

Isak feels him before he sees him. Its an overflowing of warmth that courses through him, and he turns towards the living room just as Even stands up from the sofa. Freya jumps away from his lap as he does. 

Isak freezes as he takes in the sight of Even, who brings his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes, effectively trying to wipe away the apparent tears. But it’s no use, it’s evident in his red puffy eyes and his thoroughly wet cheeks that he’s been crying the moment Isak stepped out of the door. He gives Isak a look of pure hopelessness, as if he’s embarrassed about crying over Isak’s departure. 

He looks at Isak with wide eyes, wearing that expression of uneasiness, and the silence grows as they shift, neither moving closer or further. It’s then Isak understands that Even wasn't expecting him to come back. _ You’re foolish to think I wouldn’t. I was foolish to leave in the first place. _

Isak glances down towards the coffee table, where Even was staring at something before Isak intruded, and something inside him _ breaks_, once again. 

Even has got his sketchbook out, and he was looking at _ the _ drawing of Isak, sleeping peacefully beside him. Isak meets his eyes again and Even sucks in a sharp breath, as if it’s painful to breathe right now. Isak can relate, the air between them is stifling, to say the least. But it doesn’t suffocate him as it should, and Isak knows it never will. Isak feels like he can breathe again just being in his presence despite running half a mile to him. 

“You came back.” Even says, and his voice cracks, and he looks upset for a moment as if he thought he’d composed himself enough that his voice wouldn’t break, and the fact that it did makes him shake his head at himself. He sniffs, and Isak feels like he’s floating standing here in front of him. “I wasn't expecting that.”

“You told me I was an adventure, right?”

“Still holds true.” Even nods, a hint of a smile, but he still looks so dreary, looking as though Isak had come back only to rub it in a little more. He knows what Even is thinking now, his thoughts clear as day, his changing expressions telling him everything without a single sound passing his lips. And Isak doesn't want to disappoint him again, not when he so clearly already has. 

“I was…” He pauses, collects himself a little, steps cautiously toward him. And it’s only one step, but it feels better being closer to him, as it always has. “We drove halfway down the road, and then I couldn't breathe anymore. And a thought came to mind — why am I leaving before New Years? Wouldn’t it be stupid of me to go?” Isak asks, and Even doesn’t give him an answer. Even swallows, and it sounds painful. “You want to _ know _ why it would be stupid?” Isak asks, trying to give Even the reason to ask.

“Why would it be stupid?” He plays along, trying to be charming but it comes across as more delicate than anything, as if he’s saying:

_ don’t break me again, Isak. Please. _

And Isak stares at him for a long, hard moment, trying to relay a single thing:

_ I_ _ won’t. _

“I love you, Even. I’ve loved you the moment you stumbled drunk through my door after midnight, looking like an _ angel _ .” Isak watches as Even’s expression changes, softens, his lips parting as he takes in the words that Isak has waited far too long to say, “You have been one to me ever since.” Isak blinks, and the tears begin to flow freely. 

Time seems to slow as Even strides over to Isak, placing his hands on his cheeks and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. He's staring at Isak so intensely, like he’s really trying not to fall apart at his words. This confession has been crawling up his throat since the moment they locked eyes for the first time. He _ knows _ it. He fucking _ feels it _ in his bones when they ache to be close to Even, to have him look at him and _ only _ him with those eyes that constantly challenge him to love. To _ want _ to love, and to care for, and to cry for.

Isak can’t stop fucking crying now. He’s a blubbering mess, and Even just holds him, tears falling from his eyes too as he blinks down at Isak.

“I’m _ so _ in love with you, Even. I’m so in love with you.” Isak clutches at his wrists, fingers curling around them to hold him. _ Desperate _ isn’t the right word for it anymore, it’s more primal than that, but less scientific. 

Loving Even feels like a cosmic event, almost as if every Universe, at this moment has aligned and brought them together. 

In every one, in_ every single Universe _ that could possibly break off into a thousand different and complex ways -- Isak knows, he will love Even. 

And Even will love him right back. 

Even kisses him so soft, and so lovingly, and Isak lets him pour his love into him, because Isak gives it right back, and he knows he has some catching up to do. Even sighs and melts, arms moving to wrap around Isak’s middle and Isak throws his arms around him dramatically, clutching to him and Even holds him tighter.

All of his love, all of it, every single molecule of love that he’s ever produced, that he’s been holding back this whole time for whatever reason that is completely _ lost _ to him now, goes into this kiss, just for Even. 

_ “And that’s all, folks!” _ the announcer’s voice shouts somewhere in the distance, and it forces a giggle out of Isak. The sound of it causes their lips to part, and they open their eyes slowly to look at one another, and Even’s smiling too now. His eyes are so blue, so strikingly gorgeous and Isak sighs looking into them. 

“I’ll have Sophie for New Years.” Even whispers, and Isak doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

xxx

Isak calls Jonas to let him know he’s staying in Norway for New Years, and Jonas is surprised, to say the least. 

“Why?” He asks with a laugh, “I thought we agreed New Years we’d get drunk together.” He laughs again, and Isak sighs into his phone. They had agreed that once their holidays were over, New Year’s Eve would be spent with the three of them chugging back all the possible alcohol and presumably passing out before the countdown, knowing they’d need it after their holidays came to a close. At one time, that sounded nice to Isak, who now sits and wonders why that would’ve _ ever _ been a better option than the one he has now. 

Across the way from him, as he lounges on the sofa, Even is marking assignments that had piled up over the past few days, and he keeps glancing at Isak over the rim of his glasses, an amused smirk on his face as he listens into the conversation. Sophie is somewhere in her room, music blaring from it, she might just be having a dance party, and Isak kind of wants to hang up and go join her. 

He doesn’t, because Jonas is talking to him again. 

“You like it there that much?” He asks, “What happened?” 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Isak whispers, and Even winks at him, making him smile. 

“Yeah, I would. What’s up, man?”

Isak can’t help himself, spewing every single detail of his last two weeks, explaining it in a way that sounds like he’s entered the gates of Heaven, and he _has_, he’s sure of it as he looks at Even, whose now put down his assignments and is striding over in a tantalizing way to sit next to him, a smile on his face as he listens to Isak ramble. Even, his drunk angel, his eyes so bright, his heart so full of love. _Love_ _for Isak._

“So you see why I couldn’t leave.” Isak says, his voice sounding strained, and he realizes he’s barely breathed since he’s begun talking, listening to Jonas’ little hums and gasps as he lets Isak talk at full speed with no end in sight. 

He talks about the night Even arrived, the morning after that followed, how he almost left that day but something inside him told him he couldn’t -- it wasn’t even an _ option _ to leave, he just _ knew _ he wasn’t supposed to yet.

He tells Jonas about their date the following day, and how upset he was at himself for letting Even think that Isak didn’t like him more than he was letting on (Even blushes at this, fully staring at Isak now with awe). Isak talks about Sophie next, the blanket-fort and the small number of piano lessons he’s been giving her since he came back. Since Sonja is home now, he’s been staying at Even’s, though he did initially offer to stay in a hotel, but Even won him over, his honeyed words spoken with love. 

He tells Jonas about Christmas Eve, and how it will forever be different now because of Even. Even is just admiring him fondly, and Isak is doing the same. 

He lastly tells Jonas about how he left Even that morning, and his meltdown right after, the mile he ran to get back to him, and lastly, but most importantly, how much he loves him. He loves Even so much. 

“Isak.” Jonas says quietly, and he’s speechless for at least a minute before he speaks again. “I’m happy for you.” And Isak can hear it in his voice, the shock, and the content. 

“Really?”

“_Really_. I do have a favour to ask, though.” 

“Yeah?” Isak is half-way to being spaced out from the conversation completely because Even keeps kissing his neck, soft soundless pecks that are driving Isak wild, his hands softly pressed against his thighs. He wants to hang up and kiss Even senseless right now. 

“Can we crash your party?”

xxx

When Jonas and Eva arrive on Even’s doorstep on New Year’s Eve, bags of gifts from London in their hands, Isak feels like his world is complete. Sonja is there too, and Claire flew out with her to join the festivities. Even had exchanged a look of surprise with Isak, who was trying to keep composed, but it was much too hard. Even could see right through him, and Isak really didn’t mind. He loves him. 

“Did you know about that?” Even asks, the two of them pouring champagne out into cups as their friends sit in the living room with Sophie. She’s currently playing the piano for them, a song from _ Frozen _ Isak had taught her only a few days ago, and even though she’s getting a few notes wrong occasionally, the cheers of encouragement that come after keep her going. 

“Hmm...” Isak hums, and Even’s eyes go wide. 

“You _ knew _ and you didn’t _ tell _ me?” He asks incredulously, the champagne is forgotten for a moment as he corners Isak against the counter, and Isak almost doubles over in laughter. 

“I thought she would’ve told _ you _ !” Isak laughs, and Even shakes his head, rolling his eyes in the same manner that Isak always gives him. It’s much more charming when he does it. Isak places his hands on his chest, smoothing out his shirt as he moves to place his hands on Even’s shoulders, keeping him close. “She mentioned Claire in her emails, so I thought there could be something there, and I didn’t tell _ you _ because I knew you’d call her right away.” Isak reaches up to poke his cheek and Even leans into his touch instinctively.

“You’re right. I would’ve.” Even beams. 

“_Exactly. _”

“You always know everything, don’t you?” Even says with his usual teasing tone, and Isak shakes his head. 

“Not everything,” Isak says, and Even raises his brow in question. “The only thing I’m _ sure _ of is that... I love you.” 

Even still isn’t used to Isak saying he loves him, and each time he’s said it (and Isak has made sure to fit it into almost every conversation since), Even is speechless for the moments that follow, just staring at Isak with wide, loving eyes. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! Got the champagne ready yet?” Eva shouts from the other room, making Isak’s heart _ ache _ with the fondness he has for her, and also her brashness. Even presses his forehead down against Isak’s, shutting his eyes for a few moments and letting their quiet time alone last for as long as it can. 

“I love you too, Isak.” 

And Isak is left breathless every time Even says it back. 

He always says it back. 

Once situated in the living room, Isak stands off to the side with Jonas, the group of them watching as Sophie unwraps the gift Jonas and Eva had brought her. 

“You didn’t have to bring her anything.” Isak says, nudging Jonas lightly, but Jonas just gives him that look that says _ don’t argue me on this _ and _ be quiet, _so Isak does, effectively pressing his lips into a tight line, but grinning nonetheless. 

“When you told me about her we were already at the airport, so I went to one of the merchandise stores and bought her-”

“A snowglobe!” Sophie shouts, and begins shaking it furiously with two hands, then revels in the sparkling snow that shimmers over a small model of Big Ben. 

“That’s an awesome gift, Jonas.” Isak smiles widely just as Even looks over to him, clearly over excited about the gift as well. He looks just as giddy about it as Sophie is, and it makes Isak want to melt into the floor with how much he loves him. 

“Thanks.” Jonas chuckles, then places a firm hand on Isak’s shoulder. “So, you and Even, huh?”

“Me and Even.” Isak nods, a bubble of excitement in his chest at the words. _ Yes, me and Even, we’re together, that’s happened, and I love him so much. _

“Even and _ I.” _ Jonas corrects him, and Isak shoves him. Jonas laughs momentarily, then looks at Isak with a knowing smile. “This looks really good on you, you know.”

“What does?”

“Love.” 

Isak attempts to roll his eyes, but he ends up laughing instead, a joyous sound that Jonas gives back with his own laugh.

“Honestly Jonas...I thought, after all this time, what I had with Adam was as good as it gets, you know?” He looks towards Jonas, briefly, then continues. “I saw you and Eva being in love and I thought you guys were...so _ intense _ on a level I could _ never _ get to.” Isak sighs, and Jonas is quiet, waiting for him to continue because he knows Isak’s not finished yet. He squeezes his shoulder briefly, encouraging him to continue, silently telling him he’s listening. Isak doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Jonas all this time. He’s happy that somehow, along the way, Jonas cared and loved him enough to stay. 

“But now,” Isak looks towards Even, whose currently intently listening to Eva tell a story, Sonja and Claire invested in shaking the snowglobe with Sophie who demands it to be shaken _more_. Even glances at him, because the two can’t go a minute without looking at one another, and he sends him a bright smile. Isak returns it. “I...I get it, you know?”

“I do.” Jonas nods, “What you and Adam had was -- maybe at the beginning it was good, maybe sometimes it was... _ do-able_, but I always _ knew _ he wasn’t right for you.” Jonas sighs, “I’ve waited years for you to come to this conclusion, Isak.” He laughs, and now Isak is successful at rolling his eyes at him. Jonas drops his hand, sipping his champagne, and Isak does the same. “I was worried that after this vacation... things between you two might go back to how they were--”

“No.” Isak cuts him off, scowling at the accusation, and Jonas looks amused. “Never.”

“No.” Jonas nods and continues to nod in his Jonas_ -y _ way, a silent understanding, and Isak is compelled to continue. He _ has _ to, there’s no way he can’t. Isak _ loves _ Even with every fibre of his being, and he’s never going to stop making sure everyone knows just how much he loves Even to the fullest of extents. 

“No.” Isak shakes his head as he repeats, his thoughts making his head spin. There is _ so _ much he wants to say, he wants Jonas to hear them, he wants the words to be real. So he makes them real. 

“For years I thought...I don’t know what I thought. Like I didn’t deserve it, you know?” Jonas opens his mouth to retaliate, but Isak continues before he can. “I learned a lot from it, and these past two weeks with Even have been...life-changing, to say the least. I always thought change was terrifying, to actually open up and let someone _ love _ me and to let myself _ love _ them back? I--” He freezes, swallows the lump of emotions in his throat, staring blankly at a spot on the floor. He can feel a few tears welling in his eyes, and he looks to Jonas to find tears in his eyes, too. He gives Isak a smile, one filled with fondness and pride, clearly shocked over the tears forming but he doesn’t say anything yet. 

“I’m doing this for _ myself _ , you know? I was so tired of -- of living this _ fake _ life that I was living. So.. no, **it****’s not the same anymore** Jonas, it never will be, because I don’t _ want _ it to be. Life with love is... it’s better, _ so _ much _ better _.” 

Jonas envelops Isak in a hug as soon as the words have escaped him, and Isak hugs him back tightly, shoving his face into Jonas’ neck and feeling his hands tighten around his back as a shaky sigh falls from his mouth, making him shudder in Jonas’ arms. Jonas just squeezes him tighter before he pulls away. 

“I love you, man. You deserve all the love. All of it.” Jonas says, holding Isak at arm’s length and looking at him with a smile of pure joy. He sniffs, holding back his tears, and pats Isak on the shoulder, not expecting him to say it back. 

“I love you too Jonas.” Isak smiles, and Jonas smiles wide as he clutches his chest dramatically, the words going straight to his heart. Those three words that Isak can’t remember properly saying to his friend before come so easy to him now, and though the words might still feel foreign on his tongue, he likes them more than he’ll admit to. He’s ready for them to be so natural, for the love to come easy, flow freely out of him just like it does with Even. 

“Oh my god, who are you and what have you done with my _love-hating_ Isak?” He jokes. 

“He’s long gone.” Isak laughs, and Jonas claps him on the shoulder. 

“Good.” 

Eva calls Jonas away a moment later, to dance apparently, and Isak watches him go before scanning the room to find Even, who somehow has disappeared right under his nose. 

He puts down his champagne and slowly slides out of the room to find Even. He’s not in the hall, or the kitchen, so his next best bet is the dining room before he makes his way upstairs to look for him there. He’s not going to be hard to miss once he does find him, and his search becomes a little more feverish as he scans each passing room. 

He pauses in the doorway of the dining room, leaning against it as he sighs in relief to find Even there, his back towards him as he reaches up to the ceiling and tapes something there. 

Isak is too distracted to see what it is, only because Even’s shirt is riding up as he stretches up on his toes to reach the ceiling, and the small sliver of skin is enough to make his mouth water. 

“What are you doing?” Isak asks, and Even jumps at the sound of his voice, turning to him with wide eyes, and instantly his shoulders sag at the sight of Isak, his smile bright. He’s failed to tape whatever it was up on the ceiling, and now he hides it behind his back. “What’cha got there, Even?” Isak teases, stepping towards him and Even is trying to keep his mouth shut, lips in a tight line, his eyes shining. 

“Nothing, Isak.” He says with the clear intention of continuing to hide whatever it is from Isak, but his smile breaks through once Isak is in front of him, tilting his chin up at him. Even knows what Isak is asking for, and he tilts his chin up at Isak, too, denying Isak of his wish. 

“You’re being mysterious again...” Isak says, narrowing his eyes as Even gasps dramatically. 

“_Again__?_ You think I’m mysterious?” He blushes, looking at Isak with a bashful grin, “Aw, babe.” 

“You can’t distract me by calling me _ babe _ \-- What’s behind your back, Even?” Isak asks with a laugh, trying to hide the fact that he’s found Even _ mysterious _ this whole time -- but now Isak _ knows _ him, and he loves every part of him with a burning passion. 

Isak reaches forward to place his hands on Even’s sides, fingers dancing around and effectively tickling Even lightly, and watching Even beginning to squirm and hold back a laugh almost makes Isak forget about it completely. But Even isn’t budging, he’s still got the mystery item clasped behind his back. “Tell me or else I’ll keep tickling you.” Isak says, the threat very real. 

Even raises his hand above them quickly then, and Isak follows, blinking up at the small mistletoe which now dangles above them, between Even’s thumb and index. 

“A mistletoe?” Isak whispers, and Even gives him a nod. 

“A mistletoe.”

“Why-” Before Isak can finish, Even is surging forward and kissing him, hard and soft, bringing a hand to cup his cheek. It happens so quick Isak doesn’t even have time to kiss him back properly. Even moves away and shifts his hands so his other hand is holding the mistletoe up between them now, his free arm coming to wrap around Isak’s waist, pulling him closer, and Isak all but stumbles into him. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Continue.” Even says, sounding pleased with himself as he runs his hand in a small circle at the bottom of Isak’s back. Isak collects himself as much as he can, but his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still hammering. 

“Why are you trying to hang it up in here?” He asks, his voice hushed, almost as if the moment is too soft and he doesn’t want to ruin it. His voice wavers, only because he’s so overwhelmed with his feelings for the man before him that he can no longer contain it. It doesn’t want to be contained, and with Isak in Even’s arms, it never has to. 

“I was going to hang it in the bedroom, but then I thought that might be too... on-the-nose.” He says with a chuckle, bopping Isak’s nose with his own for good measure just as Isak rolls his eyes. “So then I thought the living room, but it’s much too crowded right now -- so then I thought the kitchen, but... I don’t like the lighting in there.” 

“Okay, yes, but why _ here _? The dining room of all places?” Isak asks, and Even sighs. 

“On Christmas Eve, when you were telling me and my parents about your life before L.A., it was when I learned you grew up in Oslo. Did you know, I grew up there too?” 

“No way.”

“_Yeah_, and, ever since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened if we crossed paths earlier on, if you never moved to L.A., and I never moved _ here _ to follow Sonja and my friends. What if we’d both stayed in Oslo and happened to meet at a party or -- or we both studied at UiO?” He looks distant for a moment, but then he comes back, giving Isak a soft smile, “You went to Nissen, I went to Bakka. Honestly, I’m shocked we somehow -- never knew each other, considering you’re a piano prodigy and all, you’d think I would’ve heard about you at some point and tried to win your heart.” He laughs lightly, and Isak melts. 

“Piano prodigy, hmm?” Isak hums, and Even’s eyes widen. 

“_That’s _what you’re focusing on? Not our possible other meet-cute’s that may have come before ours?”

“You think stumbling drunk into Sonja’s cottage unannounced was a meet-cute?” Isak asks and Even laughs. 

“Well, what would you call it? If not a meet-cute then-”

“Fate.” Isak whispers, and the smile slowly fades on Even’s face at his words, his eyes shining, “Destiny.” Isak says then and Even responds by kissing him again, this time a little more lovely than the last, a soothing kiss they share in the quiet space. 

And yes, it must be fate. It must be destiny. For nothing has ever felt this close to it before, nothing in Isak’s life has ever aligned this right before, to give him all the love in the world, all the love that the moon, sun, stars and everything else combined could possibly give him. And Isak can’t believe he gets to be the one that gives that love back, just as fiercely, just as passionately, as Even gives him. 

Even has dropped the mistletoe sometime during the kiss to end all kisses, and he’s now cradling Isak’s cheeks in his hands like he’s the most precious thing in the world. 

“Here I was, thinking I was the romantic one in this relationship.” Even mumbles, making Isak chuckle with warmth. 

“This is a relationship? I thought I told you I was _ interviewing _ you for--”

“Tell me you love me again, and I’ll forget you just said that.” Even laughs and Isak feels his face flush, smiling up at Even. He presses his face into Even’s chest for a moment, and then looks back up at him with wide eyes. 

“I’ll tell you I love you again only if you tell me why you thought to hang the mistletoe in _ here._” 

“Oh, right.” Even says, as if he forgot why they were there in the first place. Isak almost forgot too. 

Even bends over to pick the mistletoe up off the ground where it had fallen beside them, and dangles it above their heads again, staring at it for a moment before meeting Isak’s eyes again. 

“On Christmas Eve, we were sat in here with my parents, and it wasn’t exactly how I imagined that night going with _ them _ here and all, but --” He clears his throat, his eyes intense, “I fell in love with you, even more, that night, when I thought I had already fallen head over heels you just...you took my heart by storm, Isak. And every day feels so new and exciting with you, I’m always looking forward to learning more about you, falling in love with you even more.” He pauses, breathless for a moment, and Isak is speechless in return, his heart bursting through his chest, so he clutches Even closer, hopes he can feel how hard his heart beats for him. 

“And in all my preparations for the dinner, and then being blindsided by my parents, I forgot to set up a mistletoe for us to kiss under.” He states, sounding disappointed in himself by his lack of effort. Isak wants to shout _no, you did everything perfectly, just like you always do, _but Even continues speaking then, “I _was_ going to pull you in here after New Years, but, _you_ found me before _I_ could set it up.” 

Isak understands then, that this is just one of Even’s many grand romantic gestures, specifically for Isak and him to enjoy. If his heart was bursting before, he’s not sure what it’s doing now, but he’s so lost with how much he loves Even that all he can do is bury his face into his neck and hold him close, tight, feel his heartbeat against his own. 

Even wraps his arms around him, holding him back just as close, just as tight, kissing the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your surprise.” Isak mumbles, voice muffled in the cotton of Even’s shirt. 

“Isak, no.” Even laughs lightly, pulling Isak away only a little, just to cradle his face again. He kisses his cheek and then sighs. “You made it better by just being you. And I love you for you.” 

“I love you for you. Even when you try to... plan romantic gestures... and I spoil them.” Isak deflates in his arms, melting against him. 

“No, Is. You make them _that_ much better. Just by being _you. _ ” He states the fact again, and Isak wonders why he ever let himself think he couldn’t love someone, _ anyone, _ and most of all _ how _ he held himself back from loving Even this whole time. 

“Hey.” They both turn their heads to the sound of a new voice in the room, finding Sonja standing there, looking a little sheepish for interrupting a moment, and she gives them an apologetic smile. She’s even prettier up close, in person, wearing a gold, glittering shirt and black jeans, a simple outfit yet she makes it look like she’s going on the runway. 

“What’s up?” Even asks casually, still holding Isak close. While Sonja speaks, Even starts carding his fingers through Isak’s hair absentmindedly, like this is a thing they do _ in front _of people now. Isak doesn’t mind. 

“The countdown is soon, you’ll miss it.” She says, and then turns away to leave, giving them a wink just before she’s gone. 

Isak sighs and Even does too as they look at one another, and then Even smiles. 

“Ready for a new year?” He jokes, charming as usual, “I, for one, am _ very _ excited for what this year holds.”

“Oh yeah?”

“_Fuck _ yeah, Isak.” He says, and Isak giggles into his chest again. Even doesn't swear often, if at all, but sometimes he deems it necessary. Even laughs too, and Isak meets his eyes again, staring at him for a long moment, the two of them swaying a little in each other's arms, lost in their time together. 

“What do you think will happen this year?” Isak asks, and Even looks pensive for a moment, eyes sparkling as he looks absently around the room before meeting Isak’s eyes again, a devilish grin on his face. 

“Why don’t we find out?” He whispers, brushing across Isak’s cheeks with his thumb, admiring him unabashedly. "Together.” 

“Together.” Isak agrees, quickly and easily, breathless at the notion. 

Even takes his hand as they go into the living room again, mistletoe left behind, but the love that draws them closer is more present than ever before. 

Sophie runs towards them the moment they enter the room, taking each of their hands to join her by the television. Isak spares a glance over at Eva, who raises her glass to him, gives him a wink, and Jonas, who looks between the three of them with a wide smile filled with a surprised adoration, as if the sight of Isak with Even and a _ child _ is something he’d never imagined seeing. 

Sonja and Claire are standing together, Sonja’s arm around her waist, and she whispers something to her that makes Claire laugh, then they kiss, and it’s as sweet as it looks. 

The love in this room is fucking _ off the walls_, but Isak — he wouldn’t want it _ any _ other way. 

He stands next to Even, whose arm is around his shoulder while Isak’s arm is around his waist, one hand in Sophie’s, their friends around them, eyes glued to the television, and the countdown begins. 

It’s a blur of cheers and emotions, and then Even is kissing him, both hands coming up to hold his cheeks, a soft and gentle kiss of love, of a new year before them to continue on loving, and the promise of all the other years to come. 

The kiss is brief, and yet, the touch, the taste, lingers for days afterwards. 

Sophie is pulled into Even’s arms, and she hugs him tightly, plants a kiss on his cheek before Sonja pulls her into her own arms, leaving Isak to Even once again. 

“Happy New Years.” Isak says, and Even grins, bringing his hands to Isak’s cheeks again and giving him another quick peck. 

“Happy New Years, my love.” He whispers, and then Isak is pulled away into a bear-hug from Jonas, and a tight squish from Eva, who squeals excitedly in his arms, and then the three of them stand there for a long, long minute, just hugging one another. 

“I love you guys.” Isak breathes out, and Eva almost bursts into tears right then. 

“You’re such a sap now, Isak... This _ will _ take getting used to, but” Eva jokes, squishing his cheek and Isak rolls his eyes fondly, swatting her hand away. “It looks good on you.”

“That’s _ literally _ what Jonas just told me a few minutes ago.” 

“Oh shit, I did.” Jonas laughs, and Eva looks up at him, “Babe, we’re the same person.”

“We are.” She says, and then Isak turns around after they begin kissing to find Sonja waving him over. Even now has Sophie in his arms again, and they seem to be in a tense discussion. 

“Hey.” Sonja smiles, sweet as ever, and Isak returns it.

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.” She responds, and then Isak is pulled into another hug. He doesn’t think he’s received this many hugs in such a short span of time, _ ever _. He could get used to it though, he wants to. 

She holds him close for a long minute, and Isak lets her. She smells like flowers, the same kind that Isak used for that bubble bath ages ago, the same shampoo he used in the shower with Even a few mornings ago. 

“I want to apologize again, Isak, for what I said on the phone call.” She mumbles, and Isak pulls away just to look at her. She gives him another sheepish grin, and Isak shakes his head. 

“No, don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“I _ do _ worry about it though, because, I—“ She sighs, “I was worried, about you of course, of what could happen if you and Even got close, but I was… _ more _ worried about him.” She glances over to where Even sits on the sofa, Sophie still in his arms, but Claire has joined them now, the three of them discussing _ something _ and Isak is a little jealous he can’t be a part of it. He looks back towards Sonja, and she meets his eyes again. 

“I was terrified that — Even would get attached, and then he’d be broken after you left.”

“I—“

“You know on that phone call I warned him, I told him to stay away. I told him he shouldn’t get involved with someone who’s not going to be a permanent resident, for one, and also…someone who was on the rebound.” She looks painful as she speaks, guilty, and Isak keeps shaking his head, silently telling her that that’s not how it is, not how it _ ever _ was between them. Even could never be a _ rebound _ in any sense, but still, he could see where Sonja was coming from. 

“I wasn’t—"

“But Isak, I can’t express how _ happy _ I am, for _ both _ of you, that Even didn’t listen to me. I mean, of _ course _ he didn’t listen to me, he never does.” She laughs and rolls her eyes, and Isak gives a stilted one back. She squeezes his arm, and sighs. “I’m really happy you found each other. You two seem to be really good for each other. Better than good. The _ best _.” She rambles with a smile, and Isak feels his face flush, “Don’t give up on him, okay? It might be tough but —“

“I won’t Sonja. I’ll never give up on him. He’s…_ everything _ to me.” Isak says, finally able to get his two cents in, and Sonja looks at him fondly. “Before meeting him, I was always very apprehensive about…letting myself get romantically involved with someone, so, you know, you were right to warn him—“

“No—“

“Sonja,” Isak gives her a stern look, and she stifles a laugh, letting him continue. “As weird as this may sound…There’s something about him that just brought out the best in me, you know?” She nods, “I’m still...nervous for what tomorrow will bring, and the days after that but -- loving him, it came easily. I’ll never give up on him, Sonja, as long as he loves me too.” 

“He will.” Sonja says, crossing her arms over her chest, and the two of them look over to where Even is sat to find him looking over at them, a puzzled look on his face that breaks out into a smile once he meets Isak’s eyes. “Okay, I’ll let you go.” She whispers, and then she’s breaking off to go somewhere else that Isak doesn't follow, because he’s already walking over to Even. 

Sophie is gone now, having taken Claire by the hand and Sonja presumably followed them. 

Isak plops down next to Even, throwing an arm across him and sideways hugging him. Even hums, his cheek pressed down on Isak, the two finally feeling sated again now that they’re in each other’s arms. 

“Gonna tell me what that talk was about?” Even asks, giving Isak a questioning smile as Isak sits up a little better to properly look at him.

“Oh, she was just telling me that I’ll receive my cheques in the mail.”

“Your cheques?”

“Yeah, you think I actually came here on a home-exchange?” Isak begins, fighting his smile at the look of confusion and amusement on Even’s face, “I actually found this website with an ad that read: Even Bech Næsheim needs a boyfriend. Will pay 400kr a week, _ and _ I’ll let you live in my house for two weeks--” Isak can barely finish the joke, the look of amused shock on Even’s face is enough to send him into a fit of laughter. Even just shakes his head, laughing now as well, raising his arm that’s stuck between them to put across the back of the sofa, opening up his side for Isak to properly cuddle into before his arm drops around as his shoulder. 

“Well, as long as we split the cheques.” Even mumbles, and then kisses the side of his head before Isak lets his cheek rest on his shoulder. 

“She actually...wanted to apologize about that phone call thing.”

“What phone call thing?” 

“When she warned you not to get close to me.”

“Oh, _ that _ phone call.” Even chuckles, clearly amused at the memory, which now feels so distant in comparison to how far they’ve come and the growing they’ll _ continue _ to do, together. 

Even props one leg beneath himself as he sits towards Isak, resting his cheek on his hand and Isak does the same, mimicking him and making Even all the more amused. Isak rests his free hand on Even’s knee that rests close to Isak’s thigh. 

“I forgot about it, to be honest.” Even sighs, and Isak shrugs with a nod. 

“So did I.”

“She’s honest like that, she says a lot of things in the heat of the moment, but after reflecting she understands the situation better, whether she’s right or wrong --” Even shrugs, “Over the years I’ve begun just...ignoring what she recommends because she’s usually wrong.” 

“And was she wrong about us?” Isak teases with a smirk, and Even chuckles. They both already know this answer. 

“Most definitely.” He moves forward then, presses his lips to Isak’s, soft and sweet, slow. 

Sonja and Claire leave first once Sophie has been put to bed, and after finishing the bottle of champagne with Eva and Jonas, they leave too, heading to their hotel for the night with promises to have lunch together the next day. 

Even links their fingers together as they walk up the stairs, it’s nearly 3 in the morning, and they’re both _ tired _ and spent with the amount of conversation they had to go through. It’s finally just them again, and despite having barely any energy to make it up the stairs, Isak doesn’t want to sleep just yet. 

Even turns on his bedside lamp, and they quietly undress out of their jeans and button-ups, into boxers and fresh white tees before heading to Even’s washroom, brushing their teeth lazily and Even keeps winking at him in the mirror, making Isak flush. 

Even climbs into bed first, pulling up the blankets and then looking at Isak expectantly, awaiting him. Isak wastes no time sliding in beside him, both of them exchanging a hum and a sigh of contentment. It’s quiet between them, comfortable, bodies aching for sleep as they press close together. 

Isak kisses where he can reach, the spot where his neck leads into his shoulder, and Even hums, his hand at the back of Isak’s neck and he presses softly, fingers tangling in the few curls. 

“I’m exhausted.” Isak mumbles against his skin, curling deeper into Even who shifts to the right, allowing them to look at one another a little better. 

“Me too.” He whispers, pressing a few kisses to Isak’s forehead. “Want to go to sleep?”

“No.” 

“Me neither.” Even repeats with a laugh, but his eyes are drooping, his hand slowing, and Isak sighs.

“Ok, let’s sleep. I just wanted to keep looking at you for an extra minute.” Isak closes his eyes, the image of Even burned behind them, a beautiful thing to see before one goes to sleep. He smiles, feeling overwhelmed with love, and luck, as he gets to cuddle into Even. Even laughs lightly against him, his arm dropping from his neck to wrap securely around his lower back, holding him tight with a promise of never letting go. 

It’s quiet between them now, their breaths evening out, arms becoming looser. 

“I love you.” Isak breathes out, and he feels Even shift a little closer, feels his breath on his cheek, where Even places a kiss. 

“And I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (t.w: isak has a panic attack, just after he gets in the cab.)
> 
> ahh! thank you so, so much for reading!  
Lots of things to say about this chap...about this whole fic in general. i just am really sad to say 'goodbye' to em (even though its not a full goodbye! still an epilogue to come!!) 
> 
> The title of this fic, "it's not the same anymore" comes from Rex Orange County's song off his album 'Pony' (fave). 
> 
> lots of love love love, 
> 
> kris


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